I examined the great stone wall, the wall that rose up from the bottom of the valley for a full thousand feet, vertically rising without big enough cracks, hand-holds or other features to allow it to be climbed without serious mountaineering equipment. The 175’s had done their job by blowing the hell out of the jungle portion of the valley nearby but what worried me was the amount of debris that had impacted against the lower part of the canyon wall, along its lower edge, where the company would be strung out and moving. I’d examined the wall before we’d pulled out with my flashlight (muffled using a pair of socks over the lens). Calling in another fire mission on the jungle, what with the inaccuracy of the rounds fired beyond the gun’s effective range, had resulted in plenty of blown bamboo, fern and tree trunks being driven into the side of the lower cliff with such force that much of it had struck at speeds that left bits seemingly glued into the stone itself. Much of the debris, if I fired another zone while the company was pressed against the wall and trying to move downriver, might cause serious injuries, if not death, to many of our own Marines.
The Gunny was there, and he was close to me, but not saying anything.
I felt that he was looking up, but the only visible thing in the night was the red tip of the cigarette he held down at his right side. I didn’t like that he smoked when we were so close and exposed to a hidden enemy, but I said nothing. Some 175 rounds had fallen short. I’d felt their explosions down through the thousand or so feet of rock all the way into the cave. It was too much to hope that the drummers had been killed and their barrels blown to pieces, but whatever damage had been done had at least caused them to pause, maybe long enough for the entire company to get far enough down the river to never hear them again.
“It’s not your fault, it has to be done,” the Gunny said, taking a hit from his cigarette. “It’s a good plan and you’re going to pull a lot of Marines in this company through.”
“Thank you,” I replied, hoping the Gunny wasn’t talking about what I suspected he was talking about.
“Kilo’s over there and beginning to move downriver,” the Gunny went on, filling me with a sense of weary trepidation.
“They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter how much firepower we put into trying to suppress that,” the Gunny said, waving the burning tip of the cigarette close to me. “They’re going to take heavy fire from the NVA across the river I helped prevent from coming over. And you can’t call in any more 175s for them because the fire mission would likely kill everyone in the company rather than protect them.”
“That’s one analysis,” I said, but my voice had gone to a whisper all on its own.
“You sacrificed Kilo to save us,” the Gunny continued, his words beating into me like the strokes on the drums from above had but with much more agonizing force.
“Nobody else is going to thank you, and not too many will be around to even figure it out.”
I couldn’t say anything. I looked and listened over my shoulder for Fusner but he was too far behind me to have heard what the Gunny said, and Nguyen, was as close as the Gunny was on my other side, gave no indication he’d heard anything.
“Thank you,” I replied to the Gunny, again.
I hadn’t planned to sacrifice Kilo company. Two companies of Marines, strung out along the base of the cliff, would have taken a terrible beating, even with the ability to call in 175s for covering fire. At the very least, the blown bamboo stalks, blown off branches from the trees, and other shrapnel-related debris would have taken a terrible toll. Splitting our forces made all the sense in the world to me, although I had to admit I hadn’t considered the NVA across the river who would be able to set up and fire across the water and right into Kilo’s right flank.
The artillery and the volume of machine-gun fire sweeping the smoking remains of the jungle had done their work. The Ontos had fired some high explosive rounds but had no target for the flechettes. The southern end of the A Shau had fallen into a silence unbroken by high-velocity weapon fire or exploding pyrotechnics. Only the sound of the misting drops of rain, falling on the stiffly brittle material of ponchos, and the faulty cushioned metal of combat helmets made any noise at all. That and the General Motors six-cylinder puffing and pouting its way along – half on the path and half in the jungle just in front of me.
How the Gunny had come to his conclusion, that left me as the coldest killer working to save some remnants of the company, I had no idea, and I was cut to the quick that he would arrive at such a result in his thinking. My hand swept briefly to the outside of my thigh pocket where my letter home to my wife was securely and safely tucked away. I was a good husband and a good man, no matter what had happened or what I had done. I had to gamble that somehow, the tattered, dirty and nearly unprincipled officer I’d become was not descriptive of the man I really was, and hoped to one day be again.
The volume of fire was too significant and continuous for the artillery to have been truly effective in providing suppression, and that small arms fire was flowing almost exclusively toward the river, where Kilo, having made it to the mud bank, was trying to move down and arrive at the glacis near the bottom, where the jungle ended.
Our company’s base of fire was ineffective, as the M-60 7.62 mm bullets could only reach into our side of the jungle’s interior before being absorbed by the mass of the triple canopy jungle. The radio contact I’d thought to have with the lieutenants running Kilo was there but communications were heated, disjointed mostly broken and many times not really there at all. Kilo had to be partially pinned down on the far riverbank, and there was no way we could relieve or even reach them. The jungle was too thick, and the ages-old fallen debris that served as its floor was impossible for the Ontos to get through or over. I pushed my back carefully and with light pressure against the brush gathered in dense but thin stalks alongside the path that ran close to the undercut face of the cliff. The vertical bracken was taller than me but not by much. Fusner and Nguyen came through the opening I made and quickly squatted down near me as I forced myself under the lip of the lower cliff. There was no deep cave. like I’d inhabited higher up and closer to the river, but my position would have to do for what I had to do.
“Call Kilo and let them know they need to get down, and possibly dig in a bit, as support is coming in,” I ordered Fusner. Tell them that they’ve got to move and move fast once the firing is over. Then call the battery and give them the second fire mission. It’ll take about ten minutes for the battery to be up and firing though.”
“Unless they’re waiting by their guns to pull the lanyards for you, Junior,” the Gunny said, as he wedged his way through the hole I’d made. “They don’t have time to dig in and that’s not the call they can make and live. They’ve got to run for it down the river while the barrage is coming down, and we have to give them as much covering fire as we can from over here so the enemy keeps its head down. It’s the only chance they have.”
“You’re right,” I replied, as soon as he was done talking.
“We go down our side when the fire mission is over,” the Gunny said. “Kilo will still command most of the attention of the NVA, and they’re still afraid of the Ontos, so we should have an easier time of it making the transit.”
I wished I could turn the flashlight on, even in its most muted state, so I could read the Gunny’s expression or look into his unflinching black eyes. Kilo was being sacrificed, just as the Gunny had predicted, and just how he’d described the awful sacrifice as being something I intended and planned from the beginning.
The fire mission rounds came in, on and off-target, and they came in after only a delay of about three minutes. The Gunny was right, again. Some rounds struck the top of the rim above our position and rained small, and not so small, broken off pieces of stone down on much of the valley below. Some rounds also struck the Bong Song river, unseen in the night, but the sound of tons of water rising up and then plunging down again had a certain eerie quality all of its own. There was no longer any understandable radio traffic with Kilo. Our company was on the move, Fusner, Nguyen, and I following the Ontos, its guns angled in toward the jungle but not firing. With the artillery going off everywhere to our right flank there were really no targets to shoot at and the ability of 106 rounds fired on a flat arc from so low wouldn’t have enough of a shocking effect to accomplish anything.
Parts of the jungle debris splattered everywhere, forcing every Marine in the company to hunker down low as we moved, use the limited cover of the lower eaten out complex at the base of the cliff, and count on ponchos, poncho covers, and metal helmets to stop whatever impacted on them personally. For the first time since being in country I sorely missed the flak jackets that had been issued in the rear, but quickly discarded by one and all, including me, because of their weight, the heat they held in close to the body, and their ineffectiveness at stopping any kind of personal weapons fire.
The small hundred and forty-five horse engine of the Ontos puffed away, its double muffler system making the machine quiet enough but the baffling, or the design of the 302 cubic inch GM engine itself, made the moving sound of the small but vicious tank a bit eerie and threatening. The NVA seldom fired on it directly, preferring not to have the 106 rifles fire flechette rounds back.
I took in the bluish exhaust through my nose as I walked behind the slow-moving tank, able to move along quite easily at an angle because of having one of its tracks atop the hard narrow path and the other pressed into the soft vegetation the jungle’s edge offered under the other track.
The Gunny appeared from behind me.
“Drums have quit,” he said.
I hadn’t noticed, my mind on other things, but in noting his words I was relieved. One small thing, but it was enough to make me feel better about the whole, nearly hopeless, mission we were engaged in.
“You’re right,” I whispered out, but then realized the Gunny was gone.
All three of us immediately behind the armored vehicle worked at not coughing from its fumes, while at the same time blessing the same fumes for covering the obnoxious sweet-sour smell of rotten river-bottom mud, old plant matter and also, vaguely, the sharper copper smell of human blood. That aroma revealed to me that the NVA had not all gone down into their tunnels and caves to avoid the barrage. Some had stayed up to man weapons and fire into the left side of Kilo’s unprotected flank.
The Gunny showed up again, from somewhere in the night, and grabbed my left arm at the bicep.
“Over here, Junior,” he said, making no attempt to keep his voice low.
He pulled me toward the cliff face, through the brush beyond the very low berm it grew up on, and then alongside the Ontos.
“Keep the Ontos between you and the fire, artillery or otherwise,” he said. “They don’t shoot at the Ontos at all.”
The Gunny was gone as soon as he stopped talking. I moved with the Ontos, like I had done behind it, the exhaust aroma gone and a bit of a relief for that being the case, but the torn dead and dying smell of the jungle fully replaced its discomfort. Fusner and Nguyen were right along with me, I knew, in spite of the fact that I couldn’t see or hear them. Blind, with hearing only for obnoxious overpowering sounds, having a sense of smell so dominated that my sense of taste went right with it, I only had touch left as a contact to the real world. My hands remained free, my map returned to my pocket, and my Colt automatic never having left its holster. There was nothing for me to shoot at, and not likely to be, although in the back of my mind that I had felt that way before and had to use it. My mission was to move and save both companies to the best of my ability. Thinking those thoughts, I realized, and for the first time, it occurred to me that I really was a company commander and not whatever it was that I’d been before.
Kilo had to be moving because the fire that rose up again as the artillery rounds stopped falling increased. There was no fire coming into my own company’s right flank at all. The company was moving rapidly down the path along the base of the cliff almost unopposed.
I moved to the side and a bit back in the dark to where I thought Fusner was until I ran into his left shoulder.
“A lot of the fire over there is coming from the other side of the Bong Song,” I said, in a forced whisper.
The lowering of my voice was probably not necessary, given the penetrating loudness of the exploding artillery rounds and then the sharp chattering of small arms fire in the near distance, but the ending of the barrage had created a sort of strange shattered silence all of its own. I knew the effect wasn’t real but my reflexes responded to it anyway.
“Have Nguyen get into the back of the Ontos and stop the thing for a minute or so.”
Fusner scrambled away. Almost instantly the Ontos stopped, although its little six-cylinder motor continued to idle away.
I got down on my hands and knees and eased myself forward. I didn’t need to get into the vehicle. I needed to crawl under it. Once there I pulled my poncho over my head, reached into my right thigh pocket to retrieve my map, and then turned on the flashlight. I was ready for the bright light, my eyes slit down to cracks in order to be able to quickly take in the map I spread across the packed wet mess of path mud. The Bong Song River ran down straight from our former position where the bridge had been. It flowed past the upturned tank and then curved toward the east, toward where we were now, before sharply curving back for a bit before straightening out and flowing all the way down to pass the glacis where we were all headed. The quick glance was all I needed. The distances and perspectives automatically clicked inside my head. I turned the flashlight off, pulled back from the Ontos, and then got the poncho situated where it needed to be to allow me to see, although I could see nothing. It wasn’t only dead dark blackout but I was night blind, as well, from the effects of the bright flashlight.
“I want another zone fire from the 175s,” I ordered Fusner. “I want it put down on the jungle along the other side of the river,” I continued when I realized that Fusner was so close we were rubbing against one another. “The battery will have less trouble with both range and deflection since it’s more of a straight gun-target line kind of shoot. Have them use a ‘right four hundred from the gun-target line’ and fire for effect with the zone extending seven hundred meters in range, and tell them to expedite the mission. Ten minutes of prep time to get it going won’t save Kilo.”
The Ontos began moving again. I knew Nguyen must have given them the word although, with all the noise of everything going on around us the sound of the Ontos armored rear doors opening or closing didn’t even make it partially through the membranes of my damaged hearing.
I moved, bent over, even though I enjoyed the protection of the Ontos on my right side. I wondered about the dead and wounded. There would be no evacuation when we finally made it to the glacis. There was no place for helicopters to land. That meant, since there was cleared open areas at the top of the climb, that anything that made it to the choppers from down below was going to have to be carried, and carried while more than likely under fire.
The 175s came whistling by, high in the night. I hadn’t heard the “shot, over,” or the “splash” warning alerts, but the whistling of the fast-moving big rounds had come through. I cringed a bit as the concussion from the impacting explosions began. They were so far away, at well over four hundred meters, that no debris was thrown through the night, not making it as far away as I was located, anyway. I knew that Kilo wasn’t being so lucky. They’d likely had no warning of the barrage, were subject to its effects, even if there were no rounds that accidentally crossed the river, and then the continuation of the fire coming from the jungle into their left flank went on and on and on. Our company was in a mess but Kilo was in living hell, soon to be a dead hell for so many Marines. Hopalong Cassidy, the plan, and its results were certainly not going to be comparable to anything seen or heard on a Saturday morning matinee for kids back home.
“We may have a chance at dawn, Junior,” the Gunny said, his voice the only notice that I had that he was again with me.
I wondered, briefly, whether what the Gunny was doing, circulating everywhere up and down our line of travel was something I should have been doing myself.
“Chance for what?” I asked.
“We cleared a good bit of jungle last time we were here, so it should still be pretty clear,” the Gunny replied, holding the red sparkling coal of his cigarette in front of my face.
I took a deep inhalation of the smoke, not really caring about smoking or its effect, but rather on simply accepting whatever the Gunny gave me. It was also a way to wait, without coming across as a questioning idiot, before the Gunny continued.
“We get choppers in, and then we get the gunships with them,” the Gunny said, taking the cigarette back. “Then we get what we can of our wounded Marines out and stall to keep the gunships rotating while we climb. Cowboy will be coming but he can only be overhead for seconds before having to rotate around again. The gunships can sit there and provide the cover we need to get up that damned rock.”
“What about Kilo, since they’ll be there climbing before us?” I asked.
“Your plan takes care of that, Junior,” the Gunny replied, taking in a breath of smoke into his own lungs.
I wondered if, when it was all done, if I was still alive, whether the plan to get out of the valley wouldn’t go down as the Sacrifice Kilo plan, no matter what my intentions had been, and still were.
“Let’s get the choppers in for Kilo when they reach the cliff,” I said, but with timber in my voice. “We’ll take our own chances with Cowboy and Homan. Those guys will work it out.”
The explosions coming from across the river finally stopped and the small arms fire died with it.
Was Kilo even going to be an issue? Had the enemy killed many of them and me the rest? There would be no resolution to those questions until we reached the top of the cliff, I knew.
“You heard what I ordered?” I asked the Gunny, but there was no answer. He was gone again. I was alone. With Fusner, Nguyen, Hutzler and the company Marines around me, but, even with that and them, I was alone.
Another unbelievable read. I cant imagine going thru what you endured over 30 days. My time as a chinook mechanic with the Cav On the golf course (66-67) was 12 to 14 hour work days keeping the chinooks flying with moments of terror maybe once or twice a month when we were hit by motars. I’m not sure why but I just received the last chapter 2 days ago. I updated myself on your mailing list & will be waiting with apprehension for the next final chapters.
Thank you. It cant be easy to put this down.
I am not sure how I missed this chapter when it was published on the first. However as usual it was riveting and yet there was no sense of impending doom
Thanks a to Chuck, as usual. I’m not sure how you missed that one either but another will be up today and I hope you get word of that on here.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
The same thing that happened to Chuck Bolam JR. happened to me. Don’t be messing with the Chuck’s, James. Another great chapter in the books. Does Jurgens still have Mach Man’s Thompson?
I am glad to see you are able to continue. It is such an intense read that I can’t imagine how it ends, and what finishing it will mean to you. I know that I will miss the anticipation of another chapter.
The Cowardly Lion will begin, the next book, right at the end of the last segment of 30 days. It will take us from the battlefield, through the hospitals and on to San Clemente California where I go to work for President Nixon’s crew at the ‘Home of the Western Whitehouse’ of the time…Hope you will stay along for that ride too.
Semper fi,
Jim
P.S. if you can please join this crew too and get ready for a visit…https://www.gofundme.com/f/thirty-days-has-september
The next book is a fantastic Idea. I have been hoping through your entire ordeal that you would write exactly what the next is. Fantastic I’m ready for the 30 days to finish. Great work.
Thank you, Paul
Wow, sorry I missed this.
Semper fi,
Jim
From what I have read there were 2 different engines used so yours might have been different than someone else.
I went online to discover that they put a V8 in it later on, which it badly needed, of course.
The first motor was GM and a six cylinder, like the one we had in our Ontos. I know it was that because
I could look at it under the armored hood, and the exhaust pipe seemed like it was too small.
Thanks for the analytical work.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim!
Having lived out there in the A Shau and Que Son I move with you on every step you describe. Thank you, my Brother for the courage and fortitude to undertake this mission for us. Semper Fi Devil Dog
Those of us who went down into that valley came out different and the difference is hard to describe…which is part of why
this 30 day and night odyssey is about the longest rendition of such a short time in literary history! You read it and you
should get the idea of why men came out of the valley, if they lived, and came home so different than when they’d left.
Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hello James I have followed 30 days from the beginning. Bless you and y’all for what you have been through. On your go fund me program ,for myself I try not to put my credit/ debit business out there often but what I do and did was to write you about PayPal and Chuck Bartok responded. So I pay-paled you and maybe others would like to do that also. Keep going and stay strong this year will be thirty years with 4 bypasses and not smoking .
Thanks so much Emil, and I much appreciate you following the story. The money has been a much larger motivator to get me back going than
I would ever have thought. The trip around the U.S. has become real and something to live toward and the help of all the veterans who
are helping is beyond description. Warmth. Smiling. More warmth.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was a child around 8 years old when many young men went off to serve our country.
My cousin, Thaddeus ‘Tex’ Yonika, Jr. was 21 when he enlisted and became a warrant officer. He was with the 1st Cavalry Division, 1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry, Troop A.
I only know this from what I’ve been told or read. Tex’s mom, Dorothy was my dad’s 1st cousin. His grandfather Michael Franek was my grandmother’s brother, my great uncle. On Christmas Eve in 1969, a chaplain and an officer showed up at Aunt Dorothy’s to notify the family of Tex’s death. I remember going with my grandfather sometime later to drop off funeral memorial cards to Aunt Dorothy. My grandfather owned and ran the family Funeral home.
I remember getting a hug from my cousin (who I called Aunt out of respect) and feeling the sadness of the whole family.
Tex was in the A Shau at the time James ‘Jim’ Strauss was there. I feel it is an honor that he mentions Tex in his book and that he is sharing details of what happened in Vietnam that many never heard about. Thank you Jim Strauss, it is a brave thing not to just write about it but to relive it!
It is a wonderful pleasure to make your acquaintance Linda.
You are the first connection I have had with anyone who knew Tex. So many of the men I served with just went on into the far distance of death or back home in some tattered battered way after being wounded. Piecing any of what happened to the men I served with who did live has been nearly impossible. I only have heard from six since I began the book series.
Tex was a hero and the kind of man any man would have wanted to have as a friend for life.
He gave his life to save others and faced right into danger that I don’t think I could have.
I shipped off two books inscribed and signed, along with a letter about my time with Tex.
I hope you enjoy the bittersweet memories and I am so happy that you are happy with my treatment of Tex and the story itself.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for another great chapter.
You are most welcome Mike, and I much appreciate the compliment and you writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT I’m sitting on the edge of my chair reading this and find myself holding my breath. At the same time I am inadvertently jerking and covering my ears. I was a team leader on a contact team in III Corps. Every other day/night a different fire-base. Ammo, fuel, rations. Then repair the guns. Mostly 8 inch and 175s. The barrels could be shot out in a single nights missions. We all prayed our hearts out on these types of missions. Too often come the dawn we were on the move to another base and would not hear the results of the nights actions. Whenever we showed up we mechanic-ed then became parts of the gun crews. We had skin in the game. God Bless All Y’all, and thank You for doing this. Memories come flooding back, but not the same ones U had.!
Thank you George, for that rendition of how it was for you back at the guns. I cannot tell you how much your work meant to
us in the field and how we would never even get to meet any of you…
Semper fi,
Jim
Where can I find the link to the GoFundMe for you. Welcome home Brother
The link is https://www.gofundme.com/f/thirty-days-has-september and I will much appreciate any contribution.
I also appreciate the compliment not written but there between the lines…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for doing a anther chapter, good read
Thanks Don, much appreciate the comment and your evident care.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/thirty-days-has-september Oh, that was the link to the go fund me not the other…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you once again. In addition to having my hand on your back, I’m sending positive energy. Take care sir.
Thanks Tim for the energy and it is having an effect. Here I am, up late at night, answering comments seemingly without end…
Semper fi,
Jim
I relate to your Vietnam writings as I “visited it in the off season.” I don’t mean to hurt any feelings but I like the on the ground Vietnam reflections much more than any of your other books.
My feelings are not hurt. Different audiences prefer different material. It’s all a part of the human condition.
I write those things that please me and I have knowledge of and life experience in. I am glad you are here, writing, and liking
any of the work at all. Thank you!
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great episode James now I won’t fall asleep for an hour after I hit the rack going over it in my mind and wondering how it would have been for me,keep up the great work.
Working on the next segment as I comment here.
Thanks for your support, Ronald.
Semper fi,
Jim
It is good that you captured that moment of transition from
FIST to Commander.
Yes, it was a special moment. I have never felt anything but sympathy for real commanders in combat or captains of ships at sea.
It is such a lonely thing…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, you really DO bring us into the action. Hearing, smelling, feeling – you make US part of the action.
Thank you – and Semper Fi.
Thanks Craig, although I am unaware when I am writing of any of that. It’s just there and coming at me…
Appreciate the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
where’s the link to the GFM? I’m not seeing it.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/thirty-days-has-september There’s the link, sorry, I’m still not much of a pro at all this….
Semper fi, and thanks terrifically for anything you might do.
Jim
Glad you are back and healthy but I’ll be sad when September 1969 comes to a end. Thanks for a great read, the best I’ve ever read.
The next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I hope you will take to it. A different sort of combat, if you will.
Semper fi,
Jim
I know what you mean. I was in III Corps, severely wounded in 1970. The war just changed. The weeks went to months which went to years of rehab, surgeries that are to many to count and waiting all of that time to heal so that I could start the rehab again. You and I made it though. No brag, just fact. Many others did to. The whole war had its wounded in all ways shapes and forms. Good luck to you, and I will be waiting for the next chapter and book. Take care
Thanks Mike, and yes the wounded number in the many thousands, although only the combat wounded were really much counted.
We all came home ‘combat wounded’ in different ways, almost all with some form of what has become known as PTSD.
Great comment and thanks for sharing your own experience on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
“They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter how much firepower we put into trying to suppress that
And then you write: although I had to admit I hadn’t considered the NVA across the river who would be able to set up and fire across the water and right into Kilo’s right flank.
Wishing you strength, sir, in this difficult time.
Thanks so much Keith, I am gutting it on through, with the help fo a lot of guys contributing to the go fund me site.
Semper fi,
Jim
Although not there .. I’m feeling like I have been ..
Thank you James
thanks James for the great compliment and for putting it up in public here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Was Kilo hit on their left flank or right flank? there seems to be two different statements: one from the Gunny, ““They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter how much firepower we put into trying to suppress that,” the Gunny said, waving the burning tip of the cigarette close to me.” And later a thought from Junior: “Splitting our forces made all the sense in the world to me, although I had to admit I hadn’t considered the NVA across the river who would be able to set up and fire across the water and right into Kilo’s right flank.” Your writing is still riveting as always.
Kilo was on our right flank to the west. We were headed downriver, which was south. No, I had forgotten the NVA across the
river too. It was like the Gunny blew the bridge and I didn’t have to worry about over there anymore. As you read, that wasn’t the case
at all..
Semper fi,
Jim
Great writing! While reading I can feel,smell, & hear everything. Especially the 175’s……
Thank you, Jim.
Share with your friends.
Semper fi
Jim
I love your writing, and this whole series, I’m not wanting to critique your writing but ya need to dump the paragraph on the ontos engine specs, its useless to your story and way wrong every spec ya stated was off by a mile
I was only there and not going online to check stuff out. What I know is what I remember from Hultzer and the guys talking and from a few others.
I presume you are right but I’m not going to check it right now. Maybe when the manuscript goes to be printed.
Thanks for the data and send me the right stuff if you have and know it. I’ll use it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Oh man. Always in a dicey situation…always agonizingly ending with yet another tantalizing cliff hanger.
Everybody must have been real puckered up during this operation.
Thank God for the artillery and fly boys who have helped so often when your butts were in the ringer.
Nice job on this chapter, Jim.
I know it must be difficult to re-live what happened and is soon to happen in your telling of the story.
During your 30 days there (which seems like an eternity to us readers), you indeed became a gifted and top notch commander.
Keep plugging on the next and remaining episodes, LT.
Blessing to you…
I am here and there and back here again! Yes, I will continue now and I’m really helped by the support I’ve received in the go fund me thing.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, Prayers of strength & comfort continue as you carry us & you fight this battle & its memories again.
thanks Doug, and yes, I am fighting it and with considerable help. The go fund me campaign has come out of nowhere to buoy me up and relaunch me to finish the
books and more….thank you…
Semper fi,
Jim
Please e-mail me your mailing address so I can send you a check for your GoFundMe drive and place an order.
(I’l try to Include a note with some thoughts I’ve been trying to articulate since I began reading your story – I’ve written before but never quite got around to sending.
Thanking you in advance
PapaMike
Mike I am at 507 Broad Street in Lake Geneva, WI 53147. Much appreciate whatever you decide to do.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow brother I can see why this one was so hard for you Remeber you’re not alone we all carry our share of guilt from that Damn war !!!!
Semper go
Steve
Yes, it was tough, but I have a ‘contract,’ now…well, sort of.
The people who have responded in go fund me have given me the great impetus to finish and then to move into The Cowardly Lion,
the book that follows the third of Thirty Days.
Thanks for the nice comment and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Whew!!!
Lt-
Deadly, Riveting, & AWESOME 🇺🇸
James: I can hardly find the words,but here goes. You won’t agree but I say you are a hero. First to have lived it. Secondly to have the courage to share it with us in sorrow and humility!
There is no bragadacio but your angst at the memories shows through. You are indeed an honorable and good man. We who were in Nam, no matter when or where relive it with you,keep rolling brother, we’ve got you six👍🇺🇸❣️
Thank you Joe, and most sincerely at that. No, I don’t think I was a hero. I think I was like Sullenberger in that plane landing in the river.
I was saving one life really important to me and the rest were along for the ride….not that I didn’t care or love many of them.
Thanks for the great compliment and the care in writing it here.
Semper fi,
Jim
You’ve got me on the edge of my seat now James, I can’t believe you made it out of that mess.
One correction, “They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter who (how) much firepower we put into trying to suppress.”
Hope that you are staying healthy on your recovery.
Thank you, Don.
These last few segments are tough.
I corrected the error.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, you’ve nailed it AGAIN! I find myself hanging on every word as I read and re-read each paragraph. Semper Fi my friend.
Thanks so much Dwayne! Your compliment is taken deeply, as I know your level of intellect and that you don’t compliment lightly.
Semper fi,
Jim
Saddled up and ready for the final push LT
thanks for being right there and here with me Sgt.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for another tense, gritty, real chapter, Lt.
Civilians have no idea of the cost those of us who wore the uniform have paid, some more than others.
Thanks Mark for the great supportive comment and the compliment, of course…
Semepr fi,
Jim
Each new chapter keeps me on the edge of my seat anticipating what will happen next. I especially like the way you have developed and modified the characters as the story progresses.
Thanks Dan, means a lot to me to read that comment and know the sincerity of the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Whoa, that was intense LT, give me a few to get my heart rate back down,keep up the awesome writing!
Thanks Bob, for the great compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT ,
That last barrage reminds me of the Recon team , one zero dark thirty morning and way out in the valley , telling us to “shoot, shoot, shoot, the mother fkrs are all around us.,,,
We had pre-registered Recons position and fired our four duece for effect. We saw med evac and gunships at daylight but never heard another word. What hell it was??
The disorganization and lack of true communications in combat is legend, although I think forces of today have a better handle on it.
So many times, even in command, I knew so little about what was really going on almost anywhere….at night, deaf from high velocity weapons fired nearby and artillery going off, blind from the flash of muzzle blast and explosions, and terrified down to my toenails…and in command…of what, where, who and so on..
Very apropos my. friend, and thank you…
Semper fi,
Jim
Dam if you do dam if you don’t JAMES
So many times, yes, just as it was, and trying to explain that now. Many times not a great, brilliant or good plan…but simply
the only plan available…
Semper fi,
Jim
We do the best we can… and sometimes it doesn’t work out. Every reader of this segment has their hand on your back offering understanding and support.
Some minor editing suggestions follow:
“They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter who much firepower we put into trying to suppress that,”
Change “who” to “how”
“They’re going to be hit on their left flank from the jungle, no matter how much firepower we put into trying to suppress that,”
who was as close to as the Gunny was on my other side,
I keep rereading this. Not sure exactly how to phrase it.
Maybe either
who was as close to me as the Gunny was on my other side,
OR
who was as close as the Gunny was on my other side,
I hadn’t planned to sacrifice the Kilo company
Do we need the “the” before Kilo?
I hadn’t planned to sacrifice Kilo company
stiffly brittle material of poncho liners,
Maybe ponchos. Liners were the blanket material
stiffly brittle material of ponchos,
six-cylinder puffing and pouting its way along half on the path
Minor point: good to have some slight pause after “along”. Dash works
six-cylinder puffing and pouting its way along – half on the path
pulled back from the Ontos, and then got the poncho situation where it needed to be
Maybe “situated” instead of “situation”
pulled back from the Ontos, and then got the poncho situated where it needed to be
I cringed as bit as the concussion from the impacting explosions began.
Maybe “a” instead of “as”
I cringed a bit as the concussion from the impacting explosions began.
The company was in a mess but Kilo was in living hell
Stands as is. Could be “Our company”
Our company was in a mess but Kilo was in living hell
Hang in there. Blessings & Be Well
As always, Dan, you are a lifesaver.
Along with other fans who catch the glitches.
I believe the corrections and suggestions have been ‘fixed’
Thank you again,
Semper fi,
Jim
It’s been some time since I’ve commented as I’ve been at a loss for words. Be sure LT that myself along with many others are beside you and have your back. Not hard to understand how hard it must be to bring this accounting back to life.
God Bless you LT
Thanks Jack, the go fund me site (https://www.gofundme.com/f/thirty-days-has-september) is helping demotivate me to finish a great deal.
Now, I look forward to getting the first chapter of The Cowardly Lion out there following the end of the Third Ten Days (the follow on of 30 Days), and the trip around the U.S. we are planning for the fall…thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
No matter how much fire not who at the beginning sir
I cringed as bit I cringed a bit as the
Thank you, Mike.
Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Was not expecting this read tonight. Thanks. The smells and intensity of the night are staggering with communication problems and 175’s coming overhead adds to the tensions. Difficult times ahead, Gunny is playing his cards for the future if there is ever a need.
The Gunny was a master at figuring his way through, although he was also extremely giving and forgiving toward me, and I shall
never forget him. Like my real dad instead of what I was issued.
Semper fi,
Jim
Still as gripping and intense as the first chapter.
Thanks for the great compliment Arnie…and putting it up on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks James you a wizard with words and painting the picture of the fight and what it was like to experience it.