Corporal Mike Riorden was the Ontos Commander, although everyone called him Rio, like the city because his roots were from somewhere down in South America. The Ontos crew loved the Ontos, and I was almost certain their love had little to do with the machine’s armor or its armament. They got to ride wherever the thing was going, and they always had a place out of the rain to clean up, dry out and hang together. Rio, and two privates named Panda and Sentry comprised the whole crew. Panda drove, Sentry loaded the 106mm recoilless rifles, mounted three to a side on the exterior, and Rio was the gunner. In spite of my hesitation at how the crew might react to my rather suicidal ‘straight through the heart’ plan, they took to it like ducks to water. Panda, a strange gangly kid from Kentucky, who chewed tobacco or whatever else he could get a hold of, (I suspected the Betel Nut but said nothing), was also the mechanic because the smallish but dependable GM six-cylinder engine required constant attendance. It ate oil, spark plugs and for some reason, air filters, all the time.
“It’s supposed to hit thirty miles an hour,” Rio said, “but if Panda takes the rev-limiter off, empties the thing out, and pulls the guns and ammo, he says it’ll hit forty or even a bit more. Can this piece of the bridge across the river handle ten tons, and is what’s left of the thing flat enough to make the run?”
I didn’t know the answers to Rio’s questions, so I avoided dealing with them until we had enough daylight so I could tell anything for certain. The Ontos might do forty miles-an-hour, as he said, but it was anything but a dragster, and its run-up approach across the bridge would be short. What speed it could manage in that short distance before it plunged off into the raging water was anybody’s guess. The Starlight Scope could tell me a lot before the light of day came on, but the resolution, what with the wind-blown rain, would not be great enough to commit lives to a project that might be doomed from the start. It was still too dark to see much of anything from where we were positioned by the idling machine. The Ontos had to have its engine running to be able to either power and therefore turn its turret or move its tracks to face whatever threat might arise.
Nearly half an hour passed, once we got set in along the side of the river. The machine was pulled back into a few feet of the nearby jungle scrub, from where the Ontos crew could maneuver the tracked vehicle properly to have a commanding view to the south and also out across the river. I climbed inside through the back doors of the thing but realized it would be useless to try to see anything in the dark in its daylight-only scope, so I climbed back down. I noted that Rio had somehow torn out his seat and replaced it with ammo boxes. How many extra rounds the Ontos now carried I had no idea but I liked the way Corporal Riorden thought.
It was uncomfortable to be so close to something that seemed to give away its position all the time, but I also knew that the NVA never seemed to shoot at the machine directly.
I instructed Zippo to unlimber the Starlight Scope. Dawn was not that far off, and the Ontos needed to make its move at first light or not at all. With Fusner laying at my side, I peered through the scope, resting comfortably across Zippo’s upper right shoulder. The scene was visible, at least the river part, with the bridge and upside-down tank still resting in the middle of the Bong Song some hundred meters further south.
The river, through the enhanced green light return of the scope, ran as before, possibly at a bit higher level, but not high enough, I noted, to rise up and cover the mud flats on the other side. I studied the end of Tex’s bridge, as intently as I could. Visibility wavered in and out with the passing sheets of rain, invisible in their passage except for the Starlight’s ability to see in the dark. The rain didn’t seem to change much to us, as it fell ceaselessly down upon us. It was just the regular, crummy and mildly disabling rain. The vital area between the extended end of the bridge and the far shore was as it had been before. There was simply no way to estimate the depth of water sweeping through the ten-meter wide stretch at the end of the thing. The Ontos was just short of five meters long. It would not take much in the way of momentum to allow the Ontos to pass through most of the water if it got up to speed. Any depth of that fast-moving water that it fell into, over three or four feet, would be fatal to the machine, however. The current would handle the Ontos even easier than it had when it tossed the much heavier tank around.
The water’s aggressive rushing sound made me even more uncomfortable than the rain and mud around me. It seemed to be whispering “come, my pretty…” words like the evil witch had spoken in the Wizard of Oz when she was going to attempt to do Dorothy in.
The Gunny joined me, grunting out “Junior” almost silently, as he slid through the jungle growth to take the position on my other side.
I pulled my head back and removed my right eye from the soft rubber grommet. I looked over at the Gunny, his glinting facial features wet with the rain. I could only marginally see his form through my left eye, the right night blind from looking through the scope.
“Jurgens has his Marines ready,” the Gunny said, moving his body around so he could get at his cigarettes. “They’re ready to disassemble the Ontos guns and get them tied up for transport across the water.”
I watched the Gunny getting set up to smoke. It was comforting to watch him, once again. I came to a decision.
“We can’t pull the guns and ammo,” I said, going against my own plan. “The guns weigh about five hundred pounds each. That’s three thousand. The ammunition, at about twenty-five pounds per round, weighs about fifteen hundred, maybe a few hundred less. That takes the total up to forty-five hundred. The Ontos itself weighs ten tons. Two tons, or so, aren’t going to make enough difference, and then how do we get the stuff across the water, mated back onto the machine, and ready to go in broad daylight? We could move the stuff at night but there’s no working way to get the guns back on the Ontos in the dark, and we won’t have any close in covering fire until it’s fully reassembled.”
“Jesus, Junior,” the Gunny whispered out, cupping and lighting his cigarette before going on, “I thought you had it all worked out. What if the Ontos doesn’t jump the water? Then we lose it all, and maybe that’s the only thing that stands between us and them.” The Gunny waved back over his shoulder toward the heavy jungle in the south, where we knew the NVA were watching and waiting.
“I was wrong,” I replied. “The water’s not that wide, if you want to look,” I said, gesturing to the scope, although I knew it’s flat black paint made it completely invisible in the darkness. “If it’s too wide then we take up positions without it and take our chances with the 175s and how much air we can get down here to cover us during the daylight.”
“What if they don’t come, either the Army or our own battalion?” the Gunny asked, between puffs.
I noted that he didn’t offer the cigarette to me, which made me feel like I was running through heavy traffic all on my own again. I wasn’t worried about the Skyraiders coming. They weren’t subject to battalion command and Cowboy had somehow grown rather fond of our messed up tattered company.
“I just got off the radio with the Six Actual,” the Gunny said, conversationally, not as if he was building a case for some other plan. “The colonel wants us to hold our position until ordered to move back down there.”
“That means somebody is coming, Gunny, because there’s absolutely nothing down there except the river, the jungle, and the NVA if you will recall?”
“Yeah, Junior, I sure know that,” the Gunny came right back. “And now you know that, but I’ll be damned if I can seem to figure out why command doesn’t know that. They’re going to want an after-action report on 975. It won’t be long before they figure out the Army lost another entire unit. We haven’t filed a daily report in quite a while either. What do you want me to tell them?”
The after-action report would go out under my name, as ranking officer, but it was good to hear that the Gunny was still willing to write it or be involved at all. Maybe it was his belief, like my own, that we weren’t going home alive from the A Shau, but I didn’t really think so.
“Tell them that we attempted contact,” I answered, after almost a full minute. “Tell them that we could not establish it either by radio or physically. Tell them what we hope is the truth. Pray God that there’s no pile of Army Rangers lying dead at the bottom of that water pit.”
“No, I don’t think I’ll bring up that part,” the Gunny said, snapping his half-smoked cigarette away. “So, when dawn comes they’re going to wind this thing up and let it fly.
“Rio’s going to go it alone,” I said. “When he gets to the other shore he can run it up to the edge of the cliff, flip it around and be loaded for bear until everyone gets across.”
“When it’s crossing you should have one more aboard in charge of keeping all six barrels pointed as close to south as possible in case they have to return fire on the fly.”
With that, the Gunny was gone. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of making sure the Ontos could fire at will while it went through the maneuver, but I hadn’t. The Gunny was right. Rio needed to man the 106s while Private Panda, the driver, did what he did best.
The arrangements were made and the Ontos ready. The company was in a line of battle up and down the west bank of the river, although invisible in the pre-dawn darkness, misting rain and low but dense jungle foliage. The Gunny had been up and down the line to make sure plenty of small arms fire could be directed to wherever it was needed to support the Ontos crossing. The Starlight showed no movement, although visibility through the single lens was anything but perfect or clear.
At the vaguest of first light, before nautical dawn, Rio engaged the Allis-Chalmers transmission and eased the small but heavy machine down over the slight berm and onto the hardened mud. It didn’t take long for the Ontos to reach the leading ramp canted slightly up onto the main body of the mobile bridge.
Rio revved the small six-cylinder engine up to maximum and took off. Without the scope, all I could see was the dense dark mass of the moving object. The Ontos accelerated as it went, crossing the length of the bridge in less time than I would have thought possible. There was no delay at the other end. I saw no splash of anything, only the dark object disappearing and then almost instantly reappearing, climbing quickly up on the far shore. I let my breath out all the way, only then realizing I’d been holding it. The Ontos had made it. After all the thought, planning and worry, the heavy little beast had performed the operation like it was built for it. There was no cheer or additional sound from the Marines in the company but in my mind, I was cheering madly. The Ontos would be there to cover our own crossing, a crossing that without it might have proven impossible or terribly terminal. The light seemed to increase from second to second, full dawn only moments away. With the light came enemy recognition.
The RPG rounds came in from the jungle’s edge, located a hundred and fifty meters south of the crossing. The Ontos was a sitting duck, it’s recoilless rifles facing forward towards the cliff face. I watched from the berm in front of the opposing cliff face, a relative place of safety that had momentarily shrunk back my belly full of fear.
I watched the early morning action on my stomach, the Japanese binoculars pressed into my eye sockets. I could do nothing. The plan was playing out with the participation of enemy forces and actions I knew had to affect it at some point but in ways, I could not predict.
The 175 long guns from the Army firebase could reach all the way down into the southern valley where we were, as they’d done before. But the ‘red bag,’ beyond normal maximum range loading, left so much leeway in distancing the rounds that I was afraid to fire them. Deflection wasn’t that great a problem, as the battery was outstanding in being able to keep the highly spinning rounds within very narrow limits when it came to adjusting left and right. It was the ranging distance that was the problem. Over such a long distance, the atmosphere slowed the rounds at nearly unpredictable rates and also, at the ‘beyond maximum’ range we were at, that slowing caused the fuses controlling detonation to become less dependable. If a round was moving too horizontally it could impact the jungle at some other point than its tip, and then skip to somewhere else close by. Close by to anything, including friendly forces.
Two of the enemy RPG rocket rounds struck the mud just before where the Ontos sat, blowing up layers of mud and fire, but the third hit the Ontos armor like a giant glancing spark. It was a flying hit on the angled side of the turret, quickly followed by the warhead going off. The turret top was covered with only one-half inch armor, I knew, so exactly where the rocket’s explosive had gone off was critical. Rio and Panda were inside. The question was, were they still alive?
Half a minute went by before the Ontos rifle turret slowly turned and fired back, to my great relief. The machine had to turn again to start moving toward the cliff, and the guns could not shoot when it was moving toward the cliff because the turret only revolved forty degrees in either direction. Another RPG round went skidding over the vehicles right track guard surface before exploding when it came into contact with the one-inch thick side armor. The Ontos angled around until the front of the main turret was pointing back at the river. Rio then turned the 106 mm barrel turret toward the southern mass of jungle where the rocket rounds had originated and slowly backed the machine up toward the stone wall.
“We’ve got to cross now,” I said to Fusner, who immediately began speaking into the microphone of his Prick 25. I assumed he was on the combat net because in seconds it seemed like most of the company was running toward the closest end of the bridge. I watched through the Starlight scope, as bleached out from the looming daylight as the images coming back to me were. Ropes were thrown and the Marines crossed the short turbulent and very dangerous stretch of rushing water.
Small arms AK fire came out from the jungle, although there were no tracers to give any of their true positions. It didn’t matter, because Rio in the Ontos fired round after round into where the NVA infantry had to be. The whoosh of the 106 rounds, first leaving their long barrels and then making triangular penetration of hundreds of yards of jungle debris with their thousands of flechettes in each round, was pleasing to hear and see the results of.
It was light enough for binoculars, and I wanted one last examination of the scene before I brought up the rear with the Gunny, Fusner, Zippo, and Nguyen and crossed the river to join the rest of the company.
I readjusted the binocular lenses carefully for maximum visibility in the early light. What I saw was at first pleasing, and then the import of the scene hit me. And terrified me. Half the company or more was spread out over the far bank, bent over and running. The Marines moved with practiced ease, keeping enough space between runners but not too much to deny room for the rest of their comrades. What I watched just beyond them was Rio and Panda out reloading the Ontos tubes with more rounds. The biggest disadvantage the Ontos had was not thin armor, although it was certainly not thick. The biggest single high-risk feature of the machine was the fact that the loader, or in this case loaders, had to go out the back doors, carry heavy rounds with them, and then painstakingly reload those rounds into the backs of the tubes without cover or concealment. The Ontos was the only real target the NVA had, and the Ontos, the weapon the NVA dreaded most, could not fire while it was being loaded. Neither Rio nor Panda were moving much except to stand and load the tubes on the right side. The south side. The side most exposed to the jungle mass where the NVA were held up and waiting.
I reached over instinctively for Fusner’s radio handset, but he didn’t extend it out to me, seeing what I was seeing without the benefit of the glasses. I slowly lowered my hand. The Ontos radio was inside its body. I wanted to run forward and start yelling for them to get the hell back inside the machine, but the distance was too great and I would have accomplished nothing.
Sudden automatic weapons fire from the jungle opened up with great volume. In seconds, it was over. Both Ontos crewmen were down. The whole company had gone into the mud in order to turn and deliver suppressing fire back into the bush the shots had come from.
“Let’s move,” I hissed, jamming the binoculars over my shoulder into my open pack. “Strap it,” I ordered Zippo, who was working as fast as he could to recover the Starlight scope and get his own gear ready.
My pack had to be secure. I needed the glasses, the maps in their barely protective plastic bag inside my thigh pocket, and Tex’s .45. I checked to make sure the automatic was on safe and as secure as I could make it inside the holster. The situation with my Marines was tenuous at all times, and now that resupply had brought in a fresh contingent of black Marines to join up with Sugar Daddy, I expected more interpersonal problems than there had been during the deflective events of the past week.
The image of the two Marines standing with arms raised, jamming a 106 round into a chamber, and then being literally cut down by a hail of automatic weapons fire, was burned into my brain. I could not take my eyes off the small plot of mud they’d fallen on. Their bodies weren’t really visible, but I didn’t need to see them to know they were dead. Marines were crawling toward them with the main elements of Jurgens and Sugar Daddy’s platoons headed for the cover only the berm in front of the recessed cleft at the bottom of the cliff could provide.
I had to get to the Ontos. Sentry was the only crew left. I wasn’t sure if I was the only man left in the company who had any experience aiming and firing the Ontos’ 106 rifles, but that machine was the company’s only thing capable of real close in covering fire that was going to provide any real security for any of us.
I dreaded crossing the water again. I felt I’d die if I entered the river again, although there was no solid evidence for why I felt that way. The river ran down the center of the valley and had come to run right through the center of my life. I hunched over and ran for the bridge. I’d figure out what to do when I got to the other edge and had to face the water. Rio and Panda were dead, but unlike the appearances of so many who’d fallen before them, I could still see their faces in my mind. Both men were smiling inside me, and I dreaded to see what expressions they’d died with.
The bridge was a wet sloppy mess of debris, the river running so high that it seemed to gift upward passing bits of flotsam and plant detritus. That the Ontos had gained purchase and run across the seemingly flimsy structure at speed was almost too much to believe. I was reduced to a crawl by the slippery surface. I heard no further enemy or friendly fire. I could hear only the hungry pulsating roar of the passing water, trying to draw anything and everything nearby back inside to take downriver to some more placid hell.
Jurgens waited at the end of the bridge, with his radio operator and another of his men. He smiled his big fake smile up at me as I crawled forward. I was already wet to the core and slimy from contact with all the garbage coughed up from the river. He pointed down at the bouncing arc of the heavy rope. The water made the line jump up and then plunge down like I would be doing as I crossed. I remembered the Marines we’d lost earlier at the previous crossing and shuddered. I wished I’d ridden inside the Ontos, but I knew that would never have gone over very well with my Marines. The company commander could not run from the enemy and he could never take the safer path. Not if it was safer than the way the rest of the company had to take. Not unless he wanted to face a more terminal danger than that he might be avoiding.
I grabbed the rope with both hands and slipped over the edge. The water was cold, like before, but I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten it all, and the memory of my last encounter came rushing back. My fear fled like it’d never been there. I was inside the rushing cold water and I felt clean and renewed. I didn’t rush to move hand over hand. Fusner easily passed me, using the second parallel rope. For all its risk, I knew in the depths of my mind and body that the water was a far safer place for me than the surface of the valley, particularly the muddy surface I was about to encounter and then have to run across. I was about to rise up and then run toward the dead without any understanding of why, if I made it, I was still alive.
I crawled up on the bank’s surface but lay low, checking my stuff. The .45 was wet and tight in its holster. I placed my hand tightly around the end of the grip and felt a slight bit of warmth return to my body. I looked at the field of mud in front of me. Some Marines had made it. I could see their round helmets sticking over the edge of the berm. Some Marines were hunched over and moving as quickly as they could in that position, and some were crawling slowly, elbow by elbow with their M-16s pulled to their chests. The Ontos was about fifty meters directly to my front. I got to my knees and then stood to make a run for it when a force struck me from behind, taking my wind and plunging me straight back and face down into the mud.
Your writing has become the catalyst to make me remember things. With this segment it is SSG John Rogers teaching “his lieutenant” to employ the 106 RR. He was the consumate professional. I am sure he is long gone now….but I remember him. I still love him.
This week I read Patton’s Panthers….the saga of the 761st Tank Battalion…”Come Out Fighting”.
From Henry V: “That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day…..we few, we happy few, we band of brothers—for whoever sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother. However humble his birth, this day shall grant him nobility.”
Thanks Jim,
~Hutch (Col, Infantry U.S. Army Ret )
Thanks for the compliment of my writing motivating you to recall things that might need recalling.
I much appreciate such well written and meaningful quotes too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim in reading and re-reading your chapters from the beginning I have come to better understand the total complexity and demands placed on leadership to make the daily life or death decisions in combat even if tempered with some luck at times. Not every company had leadership as capable as you and the Gunney thus I cannot understand our military brass sending in officers & men to “on the job training” where you learn by dying as Big Daddy stayed. Your writing is phenomenal, thanks
Thanks David, it is such a pleasure to read such words of understanding.
The Gunny and I, with help from some of the others, were a bit talented in many areas
and were able to bring those talents to bear under the worst of circumstance.
Easier to say now, all these years later, than it was along the way…and while I was there.
Thanks my friend,
Semper fi
jim
I read each chapter, about once a day, not wanting to miss a word, or moment, til the next chapter. Each time I re read, I may pick up a tid bit or two, of detail, like direction in the valley, relationship to the river, fire bases etc, but I never spot a mis print!!!! I am pretty good as a reader and writer, but I get LOCKED IN to your writing!!! As real as can possibly be put in print. I bet a dollar if you, mid paragraph, switched to some other language that I do NOT know, I would still read through and not even notice!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I will be buying multiple copies for some of those I believe need to have this literary experience.
I don’t think I could have written that about my own work. I don’t see the effort as being what the audience sees, hears and smells. I just go there and I’m back.
I don’t have the fear but I feel it nearby, not like the living thing inside me when I was really there. That helps me feel my way through and about that awful, horrid
and brutally beautiful valley of no return. I write more for this audience now than I do to tell the story, I never knew or had any idea that there was a need
for this kind of descriptive effort at getting it right. Defining right. What did it mean and what does it mean today? I cannot thank you enough, of course.
I do not read many compliments as significant as this one. Thanks ever so much. I shall write on tonight because of it…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I put your critique up on my personal Facebook page. I couldn’t help it. I hope you approve!
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Precious James, chronicler of historic events, horrific and unimaginable. The average person goes about their day with relative ease, while a silent few walk amongst them, imprisoned by memories, psychological and physical.
My great “moment” of fear is reading your first three words in your response to my comment. “A combat veteran”, which I am not, and horribly may have come off as being one? To be an imposter of what I am not, ESPECIALLY a veteran, combat or not, is like the unpardonable sin to me, but I am sure with so many that you are personally responding to its just an oops!! So, I am over the panic of being “found out” and just want to say thank you for your humbling response to my comment.
I am COMPELLED to continue to write to you because of what I am, and strive to be better at.
You sir, volunteered or were drafted as were many a bit older than me and were sent to Vietnam. In the same sentence in your response to my comment you used the words brutal and beautiful describing the valley of no return.
You used the words see, feel and smell that place and the senses are as real today to you and MANY OTHERS as they were 40 plus years ago!!
Enter the Chronicler, as the Gunny, a calling not just one who was sent.
A gunny in my humble carpenter/framers opinion, is one who has experienced quite a bit more than others and steps up to provide the best possible outcome, success and survival of all. So, James the chronicler by calling, preach it!!! Notice I did not say teach it.
You are ministering to those who need, not another prescription to cover, but UN cover!!!
I grew up on Long Island NY and it was tues. Sept. 11 2001. I noted immediately 911 and the relevance. A few days later I could not find any flags anywhere, all stores were sold out, so I tried one last stop at the lumber yard I frequented. As a construction site supervisor, I was friendly with the counterpersons and asked when they may get some flags in. Mark shrugged his shoulders and said he had no idea.
I looked past him, out the window and saw my red Jeep Grand Cherokee. I turned around and went to the paint section. I loaded the counter up with red, white and blue spray paint, painter’s paper, masking tape etc.
He looked at me in shock as he knew I had a red jeep and said, “no way Jimmy, that is permanent paint”. I looked at him and said, this has been a permanent change to the world as we know it.
A few weeks later, while in an auto parts store, I saw out the window someone stop along side my “flag” jeep. He was NYFD in dress uniform. This was very common to see all over the area for weeks, with memorial services for so many. He came in the store, and I noticed him looking around as I was trying to blend into the place since he looked possibly pissed off that I would disrespect the flag or something. He walked over to me with reddened swollen eyes and asked, “is that your jeep?”, I had to say yes. He grabbed me in a bear hug that pressed my lungs empty! He wept “thank you, you have no idea how important that is”.
He then said, “I turned to the right, my friends turned left, they got crushed and I am here wanting to know why I am alive and they are not”.
So precious brother James Strauss, fellow American and leader and mentor to many whether you can believe it or not, bring us there to the best of your ability please so that those of us who have NOT been there can feel and not forget, and those who HAVE been there can once again feel and not regret.
James, I apologize for indicating that you were a combat veteran back from Vietnam. That was my fault, not your own, and you are as genuine an article as comes along out here in this
phenomenal world. You are a man who understands without having had to go through it to get it. You walk among other very rare men. Trump, Bush, Cheney and so many more men really have
no clue and make no effort to have a clue. You are not of that ilk, that ilk so many of us who severed out in the shit find pretty damned disgusting. You are also gifted in being able
to write what you really feel, and the length and depth of your comment here is certainly proof of that. I want to thank you for giving me even greater motivation to go on because the
writing is not easy, and few would really understand that. in fact, it gets ever more difficult as I approach the 30th day. And I’m not too sure about the writing of the book about when
I got hit and the long trip home to not arrive at home ever again either. But I have men at my side and in my mind…and you are one of them. Thanks for being along…
And thanks for everything you know I am thanking you for.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
I came to read the comments but I so moved by your conversation with J that I stopped. I have never read such beautiful deep insightful words spoken by friends to each other with such deep understanding, love, and care for each other’s souls. My heart is so touched by this open display of true friendship of kindred spirits.
Praying for you J and James and knowing without a doubt that God loves you two so very much.
James, God is talking to you through J. J’s words are Gods words to you.
God Bless you both.
Just a pebbler
There ares some rather extraordinary people writing on this site. And even the regular men and women are quite something. I answer all of my own comments (Chuck sometimes writes edit stuff replies) because of
the ‘draw’ the people writing comments stirs inside me. I just cannot not answer almost all of them. I usually get about two hundred per segment, which is time consuming. I am happy to get comments and much enjoy
the back and forth but I’m kind of glad that I don’t get a thousand! What would I do then? Be like Prince Harry who does not want all the attention he’s getting.
Good luck Prince, because that’s not going to change. Anyway, thanks for noting my conversations with J. He’s quite some guy and veteran in his own right. His condition is fetching and poignant as he awaits
a time when he will not be with us anymore. I write to that and him as a man and a vet and somebody who truly seems to care about me…like you. We don’t get that many in life and I would not be me
if I did not respond to that.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Amen to that Nancy!
Wow and damn ,man I’m not sure how you keep this stuff straight in your mind , but I’m glad you can , enjoy your writings. I at times don’t want to read , but force myself , I fined that kind of weird too, damn I ‘m drawing a blank so this is all. Thanks !
Thanks Bill, for coming on here to write about what you feel and also the compliment to me and my writing. It’s easier to keep something straight if you went through it, although sometimes the detail
can be difficult, especially when I look things up and they just don’t seem right in the portrayal on Wikipedia or the Internet in general. for example, we never called the little C-ration can opener
anything other than a can opener but modern reference has it as a P-38 which I believe but cannot true up from my own experience. Is it me or what?
Thanks for the comment here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
We called the can opener a p-38 in the Army, but the Marines probably had an older version. Maybe a p-32?
Dave
I only heard about the designation after I got back. Nobody in the field that I was with called it anything
but a can opener. Just the way it was. P=38 is a cooler name for the very necessary and useful little thing.
Semper fi,
Jim
The 3 Ontos I saw firing in Okinawa had a 50 cal rifle on top of the 106’s and it fired a tracer round to the target. The ones I saw there would fire and the tracer would be about half way to the target and the 106’s went off, don’t remember seeing a 30 cal machine gun though, but I was not a crew member.
The .30 could be easily detached and brought into the crew cabin. The short fifty-caliber guns fired less powerful cartridges than the machine gun but the round was specifically designed to have
exactly the same trajectory as the 106 round that would fire it. Only tracers were made for this special series of .50 caliber guns.
Semper fi,
Jim
Damnit…. I’m betting on Gunny or Nguyen getting the credit for putting your ass to the ground. Will find out soon enough. Gotta love the Ontos. Those things were one wicked little piece of hardware. Saw a demo while at Ft Sill using flechette rounds. Not something you would like to be at the receiving end of. It will also be interesting to find out who came down that chute behind you. The Gunny knows. On the ege of my seat awaiting your next edition! Semper Fi
Thank you so much Jack, for your usual kind and complimentary words. I am about to resolve another cliff hanging mystery.
Semper fi,
Jim
I fear that it was a concussion from a mortar or rpg that put you face down into the mud, or maybe it was Jurgens.
Well, the next segment will be up on Monday, as promised, and you will then know.
Thanks for the anticipation and the compliment wishing the body of your comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Good article,I was interested because I had a friend that spent his 26 month tour as an Otos driver, he drove it off the landing craft at Chu Li in 65 I think. He told me his had been powered by an GMC 454 engine and without the governor it could reach a speed of 50mph. He was nearly killed by road bomb, known today as ied. Why he spent 26 months in country, because he had to make up the 2 months in the hospital.
Yes, a bunch of the Ontos were retrofitted with Chrysler 351 V8 engines. The original was a six and underpowered.
We had the six. Thanks for bringing that up. I got the data from wikipedia…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Just a small quibble. I never saw an Ontos in my time in the Valley in ’68 and ’69, but your description of the transmission as an Allis Chalmers piqued my interest. I worked for an Allison Transmission distributor for 35 years and an internet search tells me that the Ontos was built by Allis Chalmers with an Allison XT-90-2 transmission. Allison was a part of GM at that time. I served with B-2/501st Inf, 101st Abn.
Thanks for that tidbit Dave. I did not really research the Ontos much when writing here. I knew about Allison transmission from the Dodge trucks
but not really much more. Thanks for the ‘quibble’ help…
Semper fi,
Jim
Each time I read each section of this adventure , I feel as if my efforts while in combat , were worth the nightmares ,sick feelings , PTSD and then all the great accomplishments that we made !! Again I thank you for writing and your sharing Sir!
You are most welcome Don. I am on the next segment for the first of next week.
My rigorous new schedule in order to better keep continuity going…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another insanely good chapter! I wonder with all the firepower brought down on them how many (hundreds of thousand) NVA vets walked around the rest of their lives just broken.
I publish my segments in Vietnam for the current Vietamese e, and it is amazing how many ‘likes’ I get every time…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn….
Another of your great one word compliments with meaning and force Tony!
Semper fi, and thanks…
Jim
it always takes me awhile to unclench my jaw after reading a chapter, this one was no different…Great writing sir…
Thanks, Al,
I am humbled each time I post a new chapter from the support shown.
Semper fi,
Jim
Other than what has previously noted, Ican’t add to or subtract from this outstanding installment.
Love all of your work.
Thank you “Junior,” a word I don’t take as negative as I once did.
Thanks for the compliment and for being here to read this stuff….and like it….
Semper fi,
Jim
WOW, one of the better on the edge of your seat cliffhangers in the series. I don’t think you’re wounded yet, too many days to go. I bet Gunnie or Nyguen tackled you/pushed you down to get you out of the line of fire.
Thanks for the compliment of your writing on here Jim and you attempt to figure it out ahead of time.
Next segment, of course, will reveal all….
Semper fi,
Jim
At Gunny’s suggestion you decided Panda was to drive the Ontos across the river, but then refer to Rio as the driver ???
Your writing is riveting, the situation you were in is nearly impossible to wrap my mind around, and the energy required to put it on paper must be massive.
Thank You.
Yes, have to fix that part Tim and appreciate your help on being part of the editing team.
Semper fi,
Jim
From which book is this story? I’d like to order it and maybe all of the series. Great writing! Please email me the details.
Third book, the third ten days, Jim. Not published yet.
I am writing segment by segment and putting it up on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I do not care that you have so many critics making corrections of minor issues as written.
I do like the “big picture” of what is going on, what is happening all on the fly as it happens!
This is exactly how things unfold in seconds and the tension is real.
Great !
Thanks for being along for the ride and don’t be too harsh on my editors. They mean well and are doing well for the finished product.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great read.Hell of a story.
Thanks Daniel, I am working away on the next segment right now in order to try to write one per week.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was cheering too LT. as the Ontos made it across . A very riveting Segment ,Thanks and Semper Fi
Yes, thanks Roger. I wasn’t at all sure that the little heavy pig of a thing would make the jump but it did without much trouble,
as described. The Ontos proved to be a wonderful combat device and was responsible, like our artillery and the Skyraiders and Puff for
our very survival.
Semper fi,
Jim
Only saw Puff once. If not for Puff that one time, I’d not be here 50 years later.
Yes, supporting fires could and did mean just about everything when we were dealing with an enemy
as well equipped, motivated and pervasive as the NVA. I will never forget how many guys in the rear
saved my bacon time after time while I was out there in the shit….and they are not quite so lauded
for those efforts except by a few of us who will never forget….
Semper fi,
Jim
Good read Lt
Thanks, Ron
Share with your friends.
Semper fi,
Jim
Riveting.
It is going to really get tight soon, Glenn.
Thanks for your support
Semper Fi, Jim
Good to see you back in the saddle and kicking mud! That quick cold bath will certainly perk you up, if it doesn’t shock the body. I remember a lot of cold showers in the NAM.
Doesn’t the Ontos have a 50 caliber on top? That could certainly have given your troops some good cover support and it loads from the inside.
My guess is that either Gunny or Nguyen pushed you down and out of sight of the snipers.
No, the Ontos had no fifty. Our Ontos had a .30 Browning but the exposed position was terrible to shoot from, and if it had been manned many
times, like in the last segment J, then the gunner would have been dead right away. The thirty Browning is a great machine gun but the penetration
in the jungle is nothing like that of a .50. Thanks for the comment and I so happy to see that you are still kicking!!!
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
I am happy to be kicking also, might even get a chance to see how your story turns out. LOL.
Semper fi my friend, with you all the way.
J
YEs, since you have me on this one segment per week regimen! I am working away and most happy you are
sitting or laying there and reading it.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Still sitting and walking around for as long as the Good Lord Allows. He has been good to me and for me, as I draw closer to Him each day. At the end of this journey, I will take a little R&E and be off onto my next assignment.
Semper fi my friend
Why do I picture you as this aging character of such elegant but rough presence and magnetosphere?
I do, you know. I picture you reading the work and considering after you’ve read it, maybe looking out a window
or simply against the wall.
Your own thoughts and life experience being brought into focus and attention directed to my own tied to your own.
Complex explanation there. You are special. I just know that, and I thank you for being
special in my life…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Thank you James for the kind comments. As I await my final days on earth to come to fruition, I do have a lot of time to contemplate not only my life, but others as well.
Having spent twenty years in the military, my memories of the troops I served with, are vivid and endearing. They are also very sad memories, when recalling the tragedies of war that I witnessed and the effects they had on my fellow comrades.
My desire is to reach out to those whose lives were drastically changed through war and to tell them that they are still special people in the eyes of their Creator.
Their lives were dedicated to a noble cause for both the nation and their loved ones. It was the cause for freedom, liberty and the right to believe in their chosen faith. The latter, being the most important to our Creator as He wants them to return to Him for their just rewards!
James, you are among those whom the Lord is reaching out to and are equally loved by Him. His eyes are upon you as He awaits for you to return the love that He has freely given to you. Don’t ever forget that!
I have not forgotten the Lord J.
New to me, this kind of semi-active conversation that is seemingly so one-sided.
I have prayed for you.
You don’t need my prayers, I know, but still…there they are.
I have come all this way through so many close calls it is not likely I got through on talent and luck alone.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways but sometimes I so do wish he’d just say something, even if it was only to tell me that I’m an idiot.
Thanks for your care and your constant watching regard…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another gripping chapter Good job
Thanks so much for the motivation and support Arthur.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,still on edge. Never a easy move!
Thanks Mike S, and am so happy to have your continued reading and support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for staying with us, Mike
Semper fi,
Jim
Great turn around time on this segment. Thanks. It is good that you have had some rest in the Islands. You have been going hard at it, for an old man… Dave.
Was it Panda that drove the Ontos across the bridge? Or Rio as originally planned and written?
Thanks Dave. Yes, I do write a good bid, not including on the comments here!
Thanks for the compliment and writing your own comment here….
Semper fi,
Jim
“We can’t pull the guns and ammo,” I said, going against my own plan. “The guns way about five hundred pounds each.”
Please change “way” to “weigh”.
Great writing.
Noted and corrected Harry
Thank you
Semper fi,
Jim
Another gripping chapter. I’m ill at ease with what your last sentence portends even though I knew you wouldn’t get out of the valley unscathed.
Minor typo : ““Jurgens has his Marines ready,” the Gunny said, moving his body around so he could get as his cigarettes.” Change “as” to “at”.
Thanks Bob, Noted and corrected.
semper fi,
Jim
Why all the concen wig grammer and spelling? Although proper is better, it’s not easy when writing with intensity and emotions, particularly when the mind races faster then the fingers. If worried, proof read, otherwise keep on writing…loving the action Roy
IT is natural for people to spot the mistakes invisible to the writer in rereading the work. It is also good to point it out here
because Chuck and I can fix before it goes to print. We don’t have professional editors standing by. You guys are it!!!
With great thanks.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was worried the Ontos would end up like the tank, overturned and useless but once again it seems your fears worked out for the best – so far !!
On the edge of my chair once again James !!
SEMPER Fi
Thanks, Bob,
Appreciate your support.
semper Fi,
Jim
Another nerve racking read and can’t wait till the next one. Had two brothers in Nam ,both Army and I was a Seabee ,72-76 USNMCB1.Nothing but respect for you all.
Appreciate your support and many thanks to your brothers.
Share this story with others.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another breath holding chapter LT. All I can say is that God Damned River. Semper Fi Sir
Appreciate your comment and support, Mike
Semper fi
Jim
I know of no 6 cyl Ontos to be in country. All were converted to Chrysler V8. Most specs have the Ontos at 9 tons combat loaded. The side armor on my machine is 1/2″. I was a grunt, but I rebuilt an Ontos as a civilian and owned it for 18 years. I just sold it 4 weeks ago.. Good writing. SF Mike
Appreciate your attention to detail Michael.
Yes, a Chrysler 361 cubic inch V8 engine was introduced in the 1960’s.
However, of the 297 vehicles initially accepted by the Marines, only 176 were converted between 1963 and 1965 to this standard.
So we were blessed with the good old SIX
Great segment. Keep it up. Semper Do.
A couple more typos:
“I noted that (the) Rio”.
“the Gunny said, moving his body around so he could get at (as) his cigarettes.”
Semper Fi, hate this damn auto correct.
Always appreciate your input and support Hunter.
Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
“The guns way (Should be weigh?) about five hundred pounds each.”
We could move the stuff at night but there’s no working (way?) to get the guns back on the Ontos in the dark,—
Sharp eyes, Mark.
Corrected and thanks.
Semper fi,
Jim
Anticipation is building! Worried about you Lt
It will be getting a bit tense.
Appreciate your staying with us and share with friends.
Semper fi,
Jim
“The guns (way) about five hundred pounds each. Should be weigh. As usual I’m sitting on pins and needles waiting for the next instalment.
Thanks, Terry.
Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Gunny: sentence, “get as his cigarettes’ should be “get at his cigarettes.”
Another great piece of writing, maybe for me the best chapter yet.
Thanks for your support, Robert.
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Dang you for leaving us hanging like that! Lol great read, now I’m truly excited for the next chapter!!! Semper Fi my brother!
It is getting a bit tougher to near the end.
I really appreciate everyone supporting this story, Johnny
Semper fi,
Jim
GUNNY TURNED SO TO GET “AT NOT AS HIS CIGERETTS” .
Thanks and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Outstanding writing. I don’t know how you do it but can’t wait for the next installment. Keep it going James
It isn’t getting any easier, David.
Thanks for your support
Semper fi,
jim
Last paragraphI ” I placed my hand tightly around the end of the grip and felt a slight bit of warm return to my body. I looked at the field of mud in front of me.” (warmth).
Another riveting chapter.
Sharp eyes!
thanks for noticing, Tom
Noted and corrected
Semper fi
Jim
Two very minor type-o,
Jurgens has his Marines ready,” the Gunny said, moving his body around so he could get as his cigarettes. (At not as, his cigarettes)
I noted that the Rio had somehow torn out his seat and replaced it with ammo boxes. How many extra rounds the Ontos now carried (that the Rio, remove “the”)
Good job. The first time down the chute you were solidly covered in mud. Very little mentioned of your condition after the last trip.
Appreciate your support and sharp eyes.
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Great instalment again…and you left us hanging…breathless cause we were running with you and sliding down the rope…now the wait for the next instalment…
Not over yet.
Appreciate your support, Mark
Semper fi
Jim
“Jurgens has his Marines ready,” the Gunny said, moving his body around so he could get as his cigarettes. “They’re ready to disassemble the Ontos guns and get them tied up for transport across the water.”
Get AT his cigarettes.
Check if possessive marks for Jurgens’ and Ontos’ are needed.
Glad to have two chapters come out at the old pace, before you became so popular.
Keep it up LT.
Always appreciate your input, Bob.
I think we corrected.
Semper fi,
jim
Thanks for getting us all across that river. Now, did a grunt take you down to the better safety of the mud, or have you had a .762 change your anatomy? Those questions have me instinctly returning to this page daily hoping for that early post. The lock in you have on us through the use of words continues. Thanks LT
Yes, I did find the comment and yes, I should have approved it but I try to answer every comment on here…and I’m kinda proud of that.
Thanks for sticking with me all the way Poppa…
Semper fi, your friend,
Jim
“The river ran down the center of the valley, and had come to run right through the center of my life..”
I know that if you close your eyes in the quiet time before dawn you can hear that river, see it clearly in your mind, you can even smell it…that distinct smell of everything it carried as it roared through your life..the flotsum, the blood and the dead…the entire war, and everything in it was flowing right there in front of you…..and yet when you jumped right into the middle of it….you remembered just how good it actually felt……even for just a moment..it was good….in a way, 50 years later….it sorta sums it all up…..life’s a bitch aint it?? Semper Fi
Water remains a restorative to me to this very day and most of that came from its origins in that awful river.
Thanks for the kind words and the constant never-ending support Larry.
Semper fi,
Jim
Why do I suspect that force that knocked you to the ground was gunny once again telling you to get your ass down.
Because you have the good instinct, Jb.
Thanks for staying with us.
Semper fi
Jim
Paragraph 6 “The rain didn’t seem to change much to us, as it fell ceaselessly down upon.” Fell and down seem to be redundant. “The rain didn’t seem to change much as it fell ceaselessly upon us” Loving the read, descriptive to the Nth! Semper Fi 🇺🇸 60’/66’USMCR
Thanks Reb,
Noted and Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
And the smell of the mud!!
Never goes away, Blair.
Thanks for your support
Semper fi
Jim
Was hit Sept 22 1967 First Marine Div 2/5 hotel co. Booby trapped mortar
I hope your wounds have truly healed and I so much appreciate the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
“Tell (then) that we attempted contact,” I answered, after almost a full minute. Change to (them)
I wasn’t sure if I was the only man left in the company who had any experience aiming and firing the Ontos’ 106 rifles, but that machine was the company’s only (think) capable of real close in covering fire that was going to provide any real security for any of us.
Change to (thing)
What a riveting installment with a big cliff hanger at the end. I was worried the Ontos would of slipped off the bridge crossing at speed.
Appreciate the comment and the sharp yes.
Noted and Corrected, Pete.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for telling this compelling story.
Appreciate the opportunity, Bob
It has been on the top shelf since 1970.
Semper fi
Jim
@machine was the company’s only think capable of real close”
… only thing …
Noted and corrected. Thanks, Bob
Semper fi
Jim
Oh, I hope that “force” was a Gunny! I’ll be in my walking shoes, pacing until I hear back. Love it, hate it all at the same time. Take care of yourself, Lt.
Thanks, Walt.
You are a true friend.
Semper fi
Jim