The vibrations from the low-flying Huey choppers beat the mud, the low jungle debris, and even the pebbled cliff face into a mixed frenzy of anticipation. That state was nothing compared to the feelings of anticipation I and all the Marines were feeling inside our minds and bodies, I was certain. The sound of beating blades was nearly overwhelming, and I couldn’t quite take the scene in full because of the darkness and rain-blown particulate. I sheltered myself against the swell of the berm, curling my body gently into its surface while pulling down on my helmet with both hands.
I waited, listening intently. There were more Huey’s than I’d ever heard in one small place before. After a few seconds, I picked up on the fact that there were ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ choppers in the mix. That meant Cobra Hueys were flying close in circling security while the main transport Hueys dropped down like they landed in the center of a hurricane of their own making. None of it made any sense to me. The only night vision equipment any forces in Vietnam had was the Starlight Scope and that device, only a few feet away, was not designed to be used in the air. It was too short-ranged and its field of view was tiny. What sense did it make for Cobra gunships to fly security around heavy-lift Hueys in the middle of the night if they couldn’t see?
The Cobras opened up, and fear lashed through me again, only having eased a bit during the short period of time following the rotary ship making mincemeat of the entire mud flat. The smaller rotary mini-guns of the Cobras swathed back and forth across the mud flats again, this time fired by pilots who could not see much of anything except possibly the general area above where they fired. I cringed deeper down into the hardened mud of the poorly protective berm. The rotary fire swept close but not across the company position. Either the pilots were experienced savants of their deadly trade or me, and the company had been lucky again. Before thousands of rounds of 7.62 bullets could find us, the attention of the Cobras was drawn to the denser jungle across the flat. The NVA had been taken by as much surprise as we had but finally recovered. They fired their own machine guns at the sources of the red-rope tracers hosing the area.
I heard the Choppers accept the fire and quickly dive to deliver their own hard and killing bites back down into the jungle. They fired while charging toward the target, their sweeping deadly approach invisible in the night but revealed when they fired. I stared out in wonder, part of my attention was on the choppers already landed.
The Cobras, what seemed like a dozen of them, flew, hovered about and then rose up to do more of the strange maneuvering and firing. How they kept from hitting one another was beyond me but it was a show of awesome firepower and wonder almost exceeding the deliberate devastatingly lethal fire the rotary supply plane had delivered earlier. The Cobra rotary rounds didn’t explode but their pervasiveness over the entire valley floor was evident and fearfully impressive.
The heavier choppers were down on the mud, their blades still rotating at high speed, but not throwing up so much debris it was almost impossible to look up or breathe, as before. The disturbed tumbling rain returned, steady, with slight wind drawn curtains wafting back and forth across the back of my body.
Resupply, a new command, Army engineering, or maybe some sort of selective evacuation was in progress, and I didn’t have a clue as to what it was or why it was happening. I knew the Gunny didn’t either. Since his original exclamation of shock, he’d done nothing but do the same as me, tunnel face down into the mud for prayerful protection.
I could not keep my right hand from creeping down to my thigh pocket. My letter to my wife was going to get out on one of the choppers even if I had to sprint across the mud flat to deliver it before the choppers pulled out.
“No,” the Gunny hissed at me, grasping my right hand with his powerful left. “They’re dropping, not staying, and you’ll never make it in time. Take the risks we have to, not the ones you want to.”
The Gunny’s words reverberated back and forth through my mind. I pulled my hand from his grasp, feeling like a spoiled child. The risks I had to instead of the risks I wanted to. What risks did I want to? There were no more risks I wanted to accept, not that I could think of.
Getting my letter out wasn’t a risk, it was a cry inside my heart and being for survival, for another chance at a life I’d somehow lost or been convinced to give away. But I knew he was right. There was no risk to be taken because it was too late to take it. The choppers were spooling up and getting ready to leap back into the night.
Maybe whoever had offloaded down onto the mud would have answers. That was, of course, if anyone at all had offloaded.
The birds pulled out, as if on the Gunny’s command, their blade pounding whups growing in intensity as they leaped into the air, then they slanted forward and down before pulling out to curve back and fly their return route heading north through up the bottom of the valley. Only seconds later, the gathering of praying mantis-like Cobras formed up and followed.
A great base of fire from down in the jungle didn’t start until the Cobras were all nearly out of hearing range. M-60s in Jurgen’s and Sugar Daddy’s perimeter platoons opened up in return. The mud flat gently sloping down in front of the berm I laid behind was quickly covered in plaid pattern of green, yellow and red tracers, interlacing but not appearing to impact on the mud itself. But it was so dark there was no real viewing of any of it except the blazing neon spewing out, around and down from the tracers. The helicopters had been mostly invisible in the dark and continuing mist, but in my mind, they’d been so plaintively visible that I’d have sworn I could read the Marine insignia printed on their sides. In reality, I wasn’t certain of whose choppers they were, however, until the Gunny spoke again.
“They’re Marine aircraft and we’ve got to get down there and get whoever they dropped back up here,” he whispered, leaning over while he spoke in an attempt to look through the single big lens of the Starlight Scope. “Those guys don’t have a clue as to where we are and it’s not likely they can read a compass to get here, in this pudding of a night, even if they knew.”
“Who are they?” I asked, leaning away and letting the Gunny stare into the rubber grommet.
“Shit, I can never see a damn thing through this,” the Gunny grimaced out. “How does anyone see anything with all that glowing crap going on?” He pulled away in disgust.
The shooting died down. The NVA began firing single sniper shots every few minutes. The Marines on the perimeter didn’t bother to suppress with return fire and I’d come to understand why. Until there was proof that the choppers had dropped some ammo supplies then ammo had to be conserved. Mama bear ammo. If there was too much (Papa Bear) then it was too heavy to hump up and down the hills, through the mess of jungle crud and the cloying deep mud. If there was too little (Baby Bear) then there was the very real danger of running out and dying like helpless landed fish. The calculation to arrive at the just right “Mama Bear” amount was ongoing and always argued over.
I wasn’t that good in the night, and I knew it because I had Nguyen. He could see in the dark, almost as good as the Starlight Scope. I knew where I was spatially at almost all times. It went along with my gifts for artillery calling and map reading, but the wet blackness of night was confusing if I couldn’t see, no matter how oriented one might be down deep inside the valley.
“I’ll go,” the Gunny said, moving away from me to get ready.
“I’ve got to get the word out that friendlies are going be out on the mud.”
“I would suppose whoever’s out there under that umbrella of fire isn’t too friendly anymore,” I replied, knowing that our Marines had adjusted their M-60 fire for whoever was lying flat as pancakes out in front of us.
Whoever it was that had come in, however, it was unlikely that they were combat vets before this very time and in this very place. Combat vets didn’t come visiting in the middle of the night. Marines who didn’t know any better came, and I could only imagine what they had to be going through out there in the misting rain with their faces and stomachs shoved as deeply down into the leech-infested mud as they could get them.
I sighed to myself, remembering that it had been the Gunny who’d come for me during my first night when I’d been dumped from my own chopper. It seemed like so long ago.
“I’ll go,” I said. “Nguyen and I’ll go and bring them back.” I shifted over so I could make sure that my letter home was secure in one pocket.
As I moved the Gunny leaned in and gripped my arm up high. He shoved a package into my right hand.
“We’ll go together,” he whispered. “Take this stuff, just in case.”
I felt the package with my fingers, almost instantly recognizing the case for what it was. The morphine syrettes could be felt through the cardboard like the narrow columns of chalk in the boxes the Maryknoll nuns of my childhood used to store their own ‘ammunition.’ I shoved the box into my right thigh pocket, thinking that the Gunny was preparing me for another time of grueling violence and blood until he whispered again.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” he said. “If things go south then you do what it is you do, and without delay.”
I tucked the package carefully into my thigh pocket and buttoned it closed. That pocket also contained my maps in their plastic bags and my compass. Some of the Marines carried the smaller M-33 grenades in those pockets but I had my two in my pack. My trust in grenades was low, having watched how ineffective they were in training except in closed environments. In the jungle foliage, they were little more than a muffled bump in the night unless the proximity to one exploding was only a few feet.
The Gunny crawled away into the night. I knew he was going to Jurgens and Sugar Daddy to let them know he was going out, which pleased me. The Marines would not risk shooting the Gunny, and I would be with him all the way. There was no sound from the area of the drop. I went back to staring through the scope, now fully used to adjusting the tube and focus to make up for Zippo’s breathing and fidgeting around, but there was nothing to see. Nothing moved and the misting rain made a muck of trying to define anything out of blurry shades of back and foreground.
The Gunny came back and the four of us slithered across the berm and down onto the slimy surface of the mud, Nguyen, the Gunny, myself and Fusner. I’d decided at the last minute to make sure we had a radio, and therefore we wouldn’t be dependent upon anyone offloaded from the choppers for staying in communication.
The mud was slick and also difficult to grasp since the rain had been falling for so long. Muck was a better word than mud to describe it, and it also had a distinctive putrid smell of decay. Whether that was being exuded from all the nearby dead enemy soldiers who had to still be interred in their holes from the rotary cannons aboard the C-130 or whether it was simply a function of the nature of the stuff down close to the river. It was unknowable, not that that made any difference. My .45 remained in its holster. I’d left everything else normally attached to my web belt back under the lip of the cave, marginally dry and waiting for my return. The leeches were everywhere, but for reasons known only to them, they seemed to slide away from my hands as I worked to clear the mud before me before pulling myself forward about a foot at a time. Occasional small arms fire came out of the jungle area downriver where The NVA had stopped firing from their protected positions. I knew that if the enemy had a Starlight Scope we’d all be very quickly dead or severely wounded.
“Marines,” a muffled voice called out from just ahead of where I was crawling. I stopped to listen, as did the others. None of us made a sound, although it was still difficult to hear anything over the rushing sound of the river and the constant patter of the misting rain.
“Marines,” came again.
I pushed forward, the Gunny with me until I ran into a metal canister. I knew what it was right away. The water bottles came in thick plastic bottles. C-rations came in heavy cardboard boxes. Only ammunition or explosives came in aluminum canisters, and very occasionally, hot food. I didn’t think battalion was sending us hot chow.
The Gunny took the lead in pushing through the canisters, boxes and some water bottles. The choppers had been on the ground so short a time that they hadn’t unloaded. They’d dumped what they had overboard into the moist mud. Many of the items were half buried by the impact of their fall.
“Marines,” came the heavy rough whisper again.
The tone of desperation and fear in the timbre of the voice told me all I needed to know. Another team of Marines had come flying into a hot landing zone and been introduced to combat on the ground. It was night, they didn’t have a clue as to where they really were, the enemy was shooting at them and it seemed that the friendlies were too. And they were mired down in heavy mud, it was raining, and the leeches weren’t being as kind to them as they’d been to us.
“Welcome to my world,” Fusner said to me from a few feet away, no doubt sensing exactly the same thing that I was.
“Marines,” the voice called out again.
“We’re here,” the Gunny said back, keep his voice down as far as possible, but still surprised me.
We were out in the open between opposing forces in the night. The best course, and generally only course for survival under such circumstance was silence. Silence without moving was preferred, and silence without moving in some sort of covered shelter was the ideal.
“Shit,” the Gunny whispered, hesitating before moving aside to go around something. I crawled forward onto a body.
“Marines,” the voice said again.
“Shut up, we’re here,” hissed the Gunny, knowing full well we were dealing with a remnant of whatever force had been sent out.
The firing by the NVA had been point specific. When the choppers landed the nearby enemy soldiers in holes had been able to register the position. The earlier fire we’d heard and the company had responded to, was site-specific. And now the four of us were in exactly the same position at the same registered site, although nobody was firing at us.
All firing had stopped and an eerie silence hung over the battlefield mud. There was only the sound of the river and the rain. The NVA knew where we were and they knew we were alive.
I crawled forward to where the Gunny had pulled up short.
“You’re going to be all right,” the Gunny said, talking to a figure I sensed laying in front of him. “You’re not hit. Who were you with?”
“Major Cruikshank, and his command staff,” the voice in front of the Gunny said.
“Shit,” the Gunny whispered again, before twisting back to face me.
“Battalion command just lost a good bit of battalion command,” the Gunny said. “Cruikshank was the XO, and I think they’re all dead.”
“What in the hell happened?” I asked, in shock. What was battalion doing sending out the XO without any warning or ground support, I wondered?
“They were getting oriented here on the ground, and then they were all dead,” the voice said. “Just like that. They were all dead. How could they all just be dead like that?”
“Who are you?” the Gunny said, his voice low and harsh.
“I’m Sergeant Bates, serving as aide to the major,” the voice replied.
“We’ve got to keep quiet or we’re going to draw more fire,” I whispered up near the Gunny’s left ear.
“Not likely,” the Gunny shot back, not whispering this time. “You don’t get it yet?”
“Get what?” I replied, perplexed.
“You, it’s you,” the Gunny said, “and this guy’s fine but his radio’s shot to hell. We need to get back up to the berm and wait until first light and supporting fires to come back for the supplies.”
“Me?” I said, with the same shocked tone.
“Like they can’t know we’re here?” The Gunny said, derisively. “These rear area guys got out of the choppers and wandered around like they were touring a park. The NVA registered the site and then put down a very effective base of small arms fire to take out whoever came out and dropped to the mud. I don’t know if our company helped things along, but we can’t stay out here for much longer. The NVA commander down there might not do the honorable thing all night.”
“Me?” I asked again.
“They’re letting us recover our wounded and dead because you let them recover their own,” the Gunny said.
A long groan came from somewhere in the near distance.
“How many Marines got off the choppers?” the Gunny said to Bates.
“Six of us,” Bates replied.
The groan came again, this time insistently loud.
“Shit,” the Gunny said, for the third time.
“Somebody made it,” I said. “We’ve got to figure out who, and then what we’re going to do.”
“Like we have a real choice here, Junior,” the Gunny replied, moving to begin checking the bodies.
“What’s he talking about?” Bates asked.
My hand automatically went down to clutch my right thigh pocket.
“Nuthin, Sergeant,” I replied, “he didn’t mean nuthin.”
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I think back a few installments to where you left your gear on the top of a ridge and came back to it later and found they had gone through it and didnt booby trap it or harm it in any way and wonder wtf? Then they turn around and lay a couple of rpgs on the army guys on the rock cliff. The army guys that came oer the moutain with some food,wasnt there any fighting going on there? How long of a walk was it from theor camp. It seems like every officer that calls you a fuck up gets wasted by not listening to you. Somehow i missed the chapter whrn you had them in the sights of the onto but will get it when the book comes out
Well, not many officers in the Gunny’s experience ever stopped long enough to listen when in combat.
I have no idea of what happened to the Gunny before the bitterness of the A Shau went inside us all.
Semper fi,
Jim
And thanks for wanting the next book when I get done…
Another great chapter. Thanks a JIM. Keep them coming.
You are most welcome Bud, and I am working on the next segment right this minute…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, we had strobe lights at both ends of our position to help the choppers know where we were. They only came out at night for the wounded if they could not make it til morning. Keep them coming Jim… Mike
I’m sure that there were materials available to make life more accommodating in different parts of that
damned war and in the man difference places. We worked with what we could haul around, piecemeal as that was…
Semper fi
Jim
Evening Jim;
That is the sad fact of that dammed war, The scatter shot distribution of equipment, Some of the things I saw bordered on being criminal when it came to even simple life saving support equipment, I was often appalled at how the Marines were screwed over so many times when it came to any type of cutting edge equipment, Let alone stuff we in the Army took for granted run of the mill, When task with supply for you Marines, I always tried to scrounge extra, Yes there was a visible physical difference between our Army Grunts and Your Marine Grunts anytime we came in contact with you. My deepest respect for You Marines and the mantra “Improvise, Adapt and Overcome”
Semper Fi/This We Defend Bob
A very concise and perfect description of how I came to love the Army.
So many Army guys were just like you.
They loved the Marines and helped at every opportunity and we cared deeply about them.
We were like the big older brothers while you guys were like the younger brothers trying your hearts out….
and for us too.
Thank you, Robert, once again.
Semper fi, and happy 4th brother.
Jim
Let me try this again. My first attempt failed to post. First off, I am enjoying your story. What an adventure, although one I’m sure you could have done without!
I’m a Retired Marine. I was in boot camp when the Mayaguez incident happened. In all my years as an enlisted man and a Warrent Officer, I’ve always felt the Corps had the best leadership out of all the services. Especially the infantry officers, who almost always seemed to have common sense, an ability to think outside the box, and set a good example to their Marines. Your experience is the polar opposite of my own. Why do you think that is the case. Did we just produce crappy leaders in the 50’s and 60’s. I hope you will respond. Semper Fi!
I believe that leadership is something that varies with not only innate quality and material, including training, but with circumstance.
Much easier to follow procedure and lead through times of peace or in familiar territory. Much more problematic under murderous circumstance.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT. again this is very important writing for history preservation . QUESTION: What are your feelings about the LT. Calley situation?
Everything is relative. Thank you for feeling the way you do about the writing.
Everyone does not share that opinion, which has to be okay with me to continue.
I knew from the start that this would be a problematic exercise but I also felt in reading about war all through the years that nobody was writing much about what really happens when men are living without accountability
or attribution or even revelation under severely fearful dangerous conditions with hugely powerful weapons.
Thanks for the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
This has nothing to do with the Lt Calley thing! Just continue your writing.
I guess I don’t understand that comment or the reference but okay. I shall continue to endeavor to persevere….
Semper fi,
Jim
It was called the My Lai Massacre, Americal Div.
Twenty-six soldiers were charged with criminal offenses, but only Lieutenant William Calley Jr., a platoon leader in C Company, was convicted. Found guilty of killing 22 villagers.
Yes, a lot of unanswered question, A lot of PC Anti War cya, And a Young Lt. hung out to dry because He was the lowest guy on the downhill when the shit came rolling down.
Semper Fi/This We Defend Bob
Yes, I know it well, the whole thing. It was a giant dial after I got home. Jimmy Herbert, a mentor of mine back in the day (wrote the book called Soldier) was somehow involved in that whole thing.
Killing civilians was a tough deal. Define civilian in a guerrilla conflict. It can play hell with everything. The whole population is against you in such a war, but part of the population makes it seem
lie they are not, like they are your friends. Not.
Semper fi,
Jim
Evening Jim,
Yep, Found this, A lot of truth in a short read, Yes everyone who has a relative or child should share this with them, It speaks a hard truth;
Sean Seòladair As I prepared for my first Combat tour of Vietnam back in ’69, I spent a few days with the old Combat Vets from WWII and Korea, of my family; my Father, Grandfathers, several Uncles and Great Uncles. They each approached and talked to me privately, but the messages were so similar.
They said I would be changed in my body. I would move through the physical world in a different manner. I would hold myself in a different posture. I would have pains where there was no blood. I would react to sights, sounds, movement and touch in a crazy way, as though I was back in the war.
They said I would be wounded in my thoughts. I would forget how to trust and think that others were trying to harm me. I would see danger in the kindness and concern of my relatives and others. Most of all, I would not be able to think in a reasonable manner, and it would seem that everyone else was crazy. They told me that it would appear to me that I was alone and lost even in the midst of the people…that there was no one else like me.
They warned me that it would be as though my emotions were locked up, and that I would be cold in my heart and not remember the ways of caring for others. While I might give soft meat or blankets to the elders or food to the children, I would be unable to feel the goodness of these actions. I would do these things out of habit and not from caring. They predicted that I would be ruled by dark anger and that I might do harm to others without plan or intention.
They knew that my spirit would be wounded. They said I would be lonely and that I would find no comfort in family, friends, elders, spirits or God. I would be cut off from both beauty and pain. My dreams and visions would be dark and frightening. My days and nights would be filled with searching and not finding. I would be unable to find the connections between myself and the rest of creation. I would look forward to an early death. And….I would need cleansing and healing in all these things, but that may not be possible. They spoke the truth.
CWO USN Retired
46 years learning this, and still on the learning curve.
Semper Fi, Jim, This We Defend!
Now that is an outstanding piece of literature and so right to the heart of the matter.
Thanks big time Reobert for posting this for everyone on here to read…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT I am glued to the screen every time I get to read another chapter. I have a personal question and I understand if you do not address it. When did you tell your wife the reality of your experience? Great read.
She would be reading it now for the first time if she would read it, which she will not.
She says she does not need to know. She knows me and does not want to go back to those nights, those
drugs, those drinks and my distance from her. Is she right? I don’t know. She worries through the process of
my writing that writing it will harm me and us. I have already changed a bit to pull it all back and put it down,
but I think I’m okay. There’s the truth.
Semper fi,
Jim
That is a good thing that she doesn’t want to read it! She has survived this long without knowing all that you have gone thru. I am proud of both of YOU for working thru it all.
The problem with real war stories is that they do not in any way make the teller acceptable back in the phenomenal world or heroic….hence
why so few are told.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for another excellent chapter. Keep them coming. What moron sent those poor unsuspecting Marines to that hell hole. Like so many, I don’t really talk about the hell that was VN, and like previously mentioned it made us old beyond our years.
Semper Fi
Thanks Gunny. Writing those two words take me back to how many times I said them in the nam.
Thanks Gunny. Means a lot to write them and it’s still relevant as hell to do so.
Semper fi,
Jim
James: While reading these last two chapters I keep thinking of the “Heart of Darkness” by Conrad. I wonder if the five surprise visitors were there to relieve you, and the resupply was an afterthought. That’s about the only reason for the Major to pull a “Marlow”. Had Jurgens painted you as Kurtz on the net after the Ontos re alignment?I suppose all will be revealed soon. Maybe I’m analyzing too much.
I read this for insight and damned if I ain’t caught up in the drama and intercompany politics.
Keep it coming, Dammit.
Semper Fi!
Thanks Thomas. Interesting thoughts on all this, so many never to be resolved. Communication with the rear
area was so esoteric and distant. Thanks for the analysis and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Glad you made it back to tell your story. I was in the Valley in ’69 and felt like an old man at twenty one years of age. I could feel my hair turning gray.It brings to mind the Bob Dylan song, I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.
Yes, exactly. Coming home was no way to survive.
It took a complete reboot with alcohol, drugs, and alienation for me to do that and ‘get younger than before’
like in the song. Vietnam made us almost ancient in understanding reality.
We came back to this, so far from that reality, and the reality of most of the world, that the stuff out there isn’t truly believable.
And so silence works.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter Lt. I’m still with you.
And I with you Al. Thanks for being a part of the whole thing, whatever the whole thing is!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim:
Your sentence:
“Muck was a better word than mud to describe it, and it also had a distinctive putrid smell of decay.”
Brought memories flooding (pardon the pun) back to me of life during the monsoon season in that hell hole.
Like you have said yourself, when the topic of Vietnam comes up, I always walk out of the room. Have since the 1960’s. Hard to explain what crosses your mind when you put your best friend into a body bag in pieces.
Keep up your work.
Regular people cannot understand.
Catch 22 was a hugely successful people but polls taken later had Yossarian, the protagonist, down as a coward and combat
avoider as he tried to talk his way out of going on those oh so deadly B-17 missions.
Jimmie Stewart bailed halfway through his tour and yet came home and was also eventually promoted to general officer.
Mondale ran for president. He did serve his full tour. He was branded as a coward and the coward elected president in his place.
Funny how real life is. And hence why you remain quiet and I have for so long too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Do you mean George McGovern Lt.?
Yes, I did,
Semper fi,
Jim
Up jumped a thought. Did the XO piss off the same General officer you did? Guess installments to come will tell. Again a wonderfully told story of a situation that “shitty” doesn’t come close in describing. Have a great day. Poppa J
I thought about that, of course, but only later on.
When I was in therapy that general was there too and we used to talk.
He never asked who I was or where I’d been. He didn’t know me and I let it
remain that way until he passed years later. What would have been the point?
I was only a 2nd LT and he a general officer.
Semper fi,
Jim
Extraordinary descriptive writing.”Either the pilots were experienced savants of their deadly trade or me, and the company had been lucky again.” And this line, and others as well. “I heard the Choppers accept the fire and quickly dive to deliver their own hard and killing bites back down into the jungle.”
Thanks for sharing another exhilarating chapter!
As usual John, you are particularly complimentary. The reality of such things is so much easier to reimagine than it might be to make up.
Thanks for giving credibility to the phrasing and the story….
Semper fi,
Ji
Afternoon Jim;
Having been in aviation over there, I suspect what came with the major were Charlie model gunships, Not Cobras, There were special C models set up for night missions, The has special Starlight and Infrared sights and projector, They were armed with 2 mini guns, and did have rockets, 7 round pods, We had a unit of them down south around Phoc Vin, There were also, Specially modified Slicks, Called Night Hawks, Yes again equipped with a IR searchlight from a tank, and night vision, on the port side along with a mini-gun, On the starboard side they had a Ma Duce, 50 cal, Both the C and Slicks has special marker lights so they could operate in teams, I remember two types, One was shielded so you could only see them if you were above and to the rear, The others were infrared and on of the pilots had a early set of night vision type goggles to keep track on any other ship. As I sit here today, I have to wonder who the REMF was back with the POGS who came up with the brilliant idea of a night resupply and sending only 5 people out with it, and not informing the unit that they were coming. I had several experiences with night missions in support of the grunts, Emergency Medivac … All were highly controlled, With full communication with the units on the ground, and tightly controlled approaches to the LZ and egress from, Scary as all hell, Not only with the chances of taking ground fire, But taking rotor strikes, Main and Tail, or putting down on stumps, large, rocks, The worst would have been losing a tail rotor in the LZ With out a tail Rotor, and the engine at full power on a LZ you go into an automatic torque spin, and crash sending main and tail rotor pieces and shrapnel all over the LZ and anyone working to bring you in…… Yep, Someone in the rear really screwed the pooch with that abomination of a mission…..
Semper Fi/This We Defend Bob.
The bravery and undaunted attitude under the worst of conditions many times amazed me over there. They had no night vision at all, as the Starlight Scope was a brand new invention and not suitable for air use.
They had no GPS. They just came, time after time, when supplies were down to the bitter end or Marines were bad hit and needed help immediately. The Army was as good as or better than Marine pilots, depending upon
whom you could get and when.
Thanks for the great informative comment, Robert!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
We’re here,” the Gunny said back, keep his voice down as far as possible, but still surprised me.
“Keeping”
Been with you since your very first installment of book one, and I will never understand how you are able to travel back and forth from that man-made hell to your present world. You remain in our thoughts and prayers. Forever thankful for your service.
I go there at night and then wake up the next day into this phenomenal world where I love to live.
I would only hope and pray that almost all other Americans might come to see that the way things are right
now in this country is pretty great. I get through the nights now with coffee, writing and netflix when I can’t write.
Thanks for the comment and the sincere compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
The terror of combat as a FNG gradually morphs into dread and acceptance of our fates as days and weeks go by and PTSD sets in ! Your writing keeps drawing me back to my own experiences as I read about yours . Reading your account can’t simply be set aside at the end because I am back in 1 Corp 68/69 for a while !
Yes, it was so long ago but last night. I know. For me and a lot of the guys on here who write in,
like you to add their experiences. Thank you for chiming in and saying something.
Semper fi,
Jim
Why would you and three good men slip down to that drop off? What would happen to you men if there leaders would not make it back? This has me setting on the edge of my chair, is everyone in in your co. Going to leave in body bags. I guess we will have to wait unless our hart gives out before we get to the end.
Rationality seemed to come and go on the field of combat. Fear is such a secretive motivating force,
for example. It can overwhelm rationality to such an extent that its difficult to describe. And we all
react to it differently at different times.
Thanks for the depth of your comment.
semper fi,
Jim
Walter sometimes a Leader must lead instead of pointing and hollering, it has to do with the respect from the Men !
Yes, it is almost impossible to lead men in combat by ordering them around and demanding
respect. You end up with 5.56 response to orders and M-33 answer to respect.
Thanks for the solid comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
I have enjoyed reading several chapters of your book, and I must start out by apologizing for bring up such a trivial comment that actually has no real bearing on your story. My comment is this:
Often in the book you refer to Nguyen, and several times you have referred to him as Nguyen the Montagnard. Nguyen is the name of an ancient ruling dynasty in Vietnam. It sometimes seems that ½ of the Vietnamese are named Nguyen. The Momtagnards are hill tribes located along the central highland in Vietnam. The term Montagnard is actually a French term. The Vietnamese called them Mi or Moi, which means Savages. The Vietnamese considered them “very low class”, or maybe not even people; – and they were treated accordantly.
So, if his name really was Nguyen, he was not Montagnard. Your description, however, does sound like a Montagnard, and I would guess he was. If he was Montagnard, his name was probably impossible to pronounce, so he went by a name easier to pronounce.
I have not read all the chapters of the book, so maybe I missed something, but how did a Montagnard end up with a Marine company? They almost exclusively worked with the Green Berets.
Like I said, trivial matter.
JP
All the names in the books are changed. You are correct in every respect and I thank you for the research.
I thought about what name to use for that character and I chose that Vietnamese version of ‘Smith.’ So it was on purpose.
I have to survive the writing and the effects of publishing a work that is controversial as hell. I waited so long so I would
not have so much to lose, so to speak, and also I did not want to be targeted earlier as primarily a poor broken down Vietnam Vet
complaining about being sent over. Now I don’t care.
Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
BROKEN DOWN VETT !!!…….Hell James, your a revered hero to me. God Bless YOU
Appreciate that very much David!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
there are a lot of things that needed to be said and learned about the why and what happened in vietnam , i my mind and i think yours the command and commanders were what lead so many young men to die . that was no way to fight a war , the reason why we may never know it it was correct or not ,which some have learned others have not. the price paid to learn was much too high !
I am not sure I understand what you are trying to say with this comment Bill.
I like the feeling I get from it but I can’t seem to take it apart and then
reassemble it in my mind to make it truly meaningful.
Thanks for making it though,
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn Lt. Don’t know how I am going to cope with all this “learning” I’ve been doing wile reading your saga. This one left me with a bad case of the “gut guivers”. Take care Lt.
thanks for the compliment and the care Wes,
Semper fi,
Jim
A soldier gets hit and have to lay there all night hoping he makes it until the bird comes the next day. So much for caring about the people in the field.
The night was extremely hazardous to fly in back then. Night vision was just invented
and cumbersome and not effective in aircraft. they cared in the read but they were limited by
technology. In Vietnam almost 70% of those wounded survived compared to 40 in WWII.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for this, LT. I was in from 78 to 82, 3rd bn 1st Marines. My uncle was in that valley as a Marine. He’s slowly opened up and shared his experiences. Thanks for helping me understand his time there.
My pleasure Mike. I hope your uncle still is with us. Tough stuff to talk about and write about, as I am
proving here. Appreciate the comment and the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I’m with you (First Calv.)67–68
Thanks James, and I with you!
Semper fi, and thanks for the warmth of your company.
Jim
My dad,George, was 1st calv and in vietnam ’66-’67 — helicopter side gunner
he’s not reading but I sure am, I have spoken about this to him — not sure if it brings back things for him or not – Anyway, I do appreciate you writing this.
Not everyone can read or accommodate this writing. Combat guys do a better job than most.
That’s why I believe the work will never really make it big out there in the world. The civilian
population is happier not knowing who they send or what they are sending men and women into.
Just the way it is.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, you would be surprised how many non combat vets get what you are writing. Some of it breaks my heart to read what my schoolmates went through and never returned. Keep up the good work.
Thanks Edward, as I may have spoken too soon. I get that feeling from sometimes telling people some of these story and then watch their eyes glaze over.
Maybe the writing is more penetrating while having a real live survivor a bit more daunting, especially since I look more like Mr. Rogers than Sylvester Stallone!!!
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
I tried to enlist in ’63 and was denied as I had albumin in my urine. I was reclassified from 1A to 1Y by selective service. I joined the New York City Police Department in ’64. When the vietnam war heated up in the late ’60’s some of my fellow cops were drafted but not me. Later when they got back and rejoined the NYCPD they were not the same men that left a few years earlier. Very few ever said anything about their service even if questioned. We as cops also served in combat every day as you cannot let your guard down as you are in uniform and everybody knows who you are but the bad guys are dressed the same as all the folks and we could not differentiate the BG’s from our citizens. The stress of being always in condition yellow/orange/red wore us down and a lot of us became callous and indifferent just to protect ourselves and our families. During my twenty years of service from ’64 to ’84 I probably pulled my revolver 1,000 times but only fired it on five different days. Each of those days is seared into my being but I rest as I know those situations required the use of deadly physical force to be applied to save lives. I found out that the standard .38 Special Lead Semi Wad Cutter round was not up to the task so I reloaded my standard rounds with the same projectiles but I substituted Unique gun powder and I was able to achieve a much higher velocity round which hit harder and penetrated better than the rounds which we were issued. I always kept 6 standard round empty cases on my belt to submit if I had to use one of my reloaded rounds. It always worked out as I never had to fire more than 6 rounds except for one firefight which lasted about 10 minutes and I went through over 50 rounds of ammo. Normally an officer would carry only 18 rounds. Six in the weapon and 12 more on the belt. I carried that plus another 12 on the belt and about 30 rounds in a special magazine pouch on the belt which would normally carry two double stack 9MM magazines. Very few folks ever asked about that double mag pouch and I volunteered no info. Since I retired the NYCPD has gone to semi autos as well as revolvers. Most are 9 mm’s but there are also .40 S&W’s and .45 ACP’s as options but usually with double action only triggers of 12 lbs of trigger pull. That makes for a more safe gun but severely limits accuracy unless the user is very proficient and practices regularly. However the NYCPD requires each officer to spend on day on the range where they will expend about 250 rounds and another 4 hours at an indoor range during the winter months where they will fire another 50 rounds. That is it. No wonder our NYCPD cops are lousy shots.
I was a police officer too for a few years after.
I sympathize with the inability to tell friend from foe so often out on public duty.
I also carried a hot loaded four-inch .44 Magnum for my duty weapon when I found out that none of the regular handguns would much penetrate most
parts of a regular vehicle.
Thanks for the illumination and lengthy comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Enjoyed, Thank You Sir. Semper Fi
You are most welcome David and I appreciate you taking the time and making the effort to write on this site.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just a thought, call it an epiphany?? We are all of us on here ‘Former “FNG’s”. I never really made that connection before.
Yes, we all started the same way and then quickly, once we’d made it for awhile, became
disparaging about fngs. It’s genetic. We did not want to be close to the ones who were going to die.
Hard out there in the field.
Semper fi,
Jim
No doubt about it Lt. I am going to re-read the whole series once the final chapter is written.. I have the first two books and will most definitely be buying the 3rd. Then I will take a week at Elk Camp to read the whole month in one long setting.
Thanks Glenn, you can now buy the books en masse from the site.
My please to write for such a discerning and enthusiastic audience.
Semper fi,
My friend,
Jim
Damn! Lt Straus, you have me waiting in anticipation for each segment. I was in 1st Marines 3rd bn 78 to 82. My uncle was in that valley,he’s started opening up to what happened. You’ve given me a better understanding of what he went through. Thanks for helping me know his experience.
Thanks Mike for the great comment and for being such a complimenting supporter.
Semper fi,
Jim
“They’re letting us recover our wounded and dead because you let them recover their own,” the Gunny said.
Perhaps civility did exist after all??
Great reading James, keep ’em coming !!
SEMPER Fi
Yes, there was some honor to be found in the field but it was like interpreting the moves of cats. You only had
actions and results of actions to go on. No communication and no intelligence knowledge at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
Either the pilots were experienced savants of their deadly trade or me, and the company had been lucky again
Should be “the company and I had been lucky again.
Got it, and thanks Gary…
Semper fi,
Jim
I’m sitting here thinking, “Eight more days of the thirty days in September to go. You’re almost there.” But also realizing at that point in the mud and mess of the valley you didn’t know if you had another eight minutes let alone eight hours or eight days. Dang!!!
That was exactly the case, Bill. One moment to the next, sometimes second to second. Certainly there was none of the boredom
I’ve read about with the guys in the rear areas….
Semper fi,
Jim
I was blessed enough to, at my age, be at the end of Vietnam. I never had to go. I do thank God above for the brave men and women who sacrificed so much for freedom. All of my friends that went came back. Some of them will talk, others won’t. God Bless you all!
Yes, I fully understand George and glad you didn’t go. I was one of those guys who never talked about the
real stuff at all. Not to anyone. But here I am…
Semper fi, and thanks for reading and thinking good thoughts…
Semper fi,
Jim
Sometimes, like in this chapter, you get to feeling like a caretaker in a graveyard! 😢
Yes, that was part of it. The never ending parade of bodies and what to be done about them while also
trying to stay alive and care for the living…Shit..
Semper fi,
Jim
Just keep it coming LT!
I am so doing, hoping to pick up speed over the coming holiday. A bit of respite.
thanks for the compliment in your words…
Semper fi,
Jim
great read LT. THANKS !!
Thanks a bunch Harold. I am writing away this night.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, thanks for this installment.
You are most welcome Michael. I hope you enjoyed it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir I missed a chapter. Have 22nd day – part 2 rec on 5/20 Then rec 23rd day on 6/13….but am missing the results on NVA charge and firing of Ontos. Keep up the great work! Thanks. Steve
The chapter published on 6-13 is the most recent prior to Today.
You might have missed the 5-28 chapter.
Twenty-Second Day Third Part
Thnak you for your support
Semper fi,
Jim
Ok I’ll wait for more thanks!
Thanks for the compliment contained in the meaning of your short sentence Bill…
Semper fi,
Jim
just can’t stop reading. Keep up the great work
Nice compliment here Don and I really appreciate you writing it for all to see…
Semper fi,
Jim
One helluva story. Every time a segment is posted. I never saw any of the edits suggested. Must mean you’re in my brain. God bless. Poppa J
Yes, Poppa, I never see the edits without the help fo the guys on here either.
Thank God they care enough…and Chuck fixes…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn LT, am sitting here in my office in sunny Cali, but my mind is out there with you, I can smell all the smells, feel the silence and the tension in the air, heart is racing, not knowing what is coming next, 50 years and its still so close to the surface. this tale of ours that you write is so captivatingly, holds me and others like a giant web built by those bird spiders that were in country, sigh….
I read this comment to my staff, and then said “who the hell gets comments like this.” What a great compliment to
the story and my telling of it. I cannot thank you enough.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow! So the xo just wanted to come out and see for himself ? If this doesn’t convince battalion that your moves were better than what they could come up with , I’m not so sure you won’t be seeing the batt 6 actual canoeing down the bong song in a bit….what a clusterfuck!
The rear did not come to the front for a reason. They knew what was going on at the fronts
all over the country. The bodies poured back in and the wounded had to go right past them.
Nobody was coming out there or into the A Shau by choice. Nobody. Unless they didn’t know
and then they came in droves…fngs.
Semper fi,
Jim
Amazing episode, can’t believe they thought coming in like that was a good option. One possible correction-“I wasn’t certain of who’s (whose?) choppers they were, however, until the Gunny spoke again.”
Thanks for the kind words and correction made
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn Lt. Jim! What an awesome Chapter. TY!
Thanks. My wife asks me, after a chapter is done, if it was good. I never know.
Just the stuff down in that valley. What else can I say?
Semper fi,
Jim
The hair on my neck is still standing up. What were they thinking by not letting you know they were coming? Lot of questions as to why. Another great read Lt.. now waiting for the next installment..
I believe command wanted to surprise inspect the outfit and get what they considered a ‘real’ report of what was
going on. What was going on was what they found out..
Semper fi,
Jim
Another riveting chapter, excellent. I wonder if the Major is the one that is wounded and you’ll have to administer the final morphine??? One point, which is probably nit-picky: In the second paragraph it mentions Cobra Hueys. My recollection is that there were Huey gunships, but I thought the Cobras were a different model helicopter all together. The Hueys were the UH-1 models (A model, D model, H model, etc.). Thanks again for a great read, cant wait for the final outcome.
Well, Bob, I cannot let on what is in the next segment, of course, but you might think about writing with that mind.
Semper fi, and read on, and thanks while you are doing it.
Jim
IIRC Huey slicks that I saw were either B models (one large window on side door – always open except for Medivacs) or D models (two smaller windows on side door). Original Huey gunships were C models such as these:
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1630.jpg
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1574.jpg
The Huey Cobra was the H model:
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1631.jpg
The first time I saw Cobras was in Sept ’67.
C models continued in use probably until they wore out. Definitely had them in front of us at Tet.
What a treasure trove of information. I know so much more now about the Huey than I did over there when we were
using them. Thanks for adding this and the work it took to do so….
Semper fi,
Jim
Amazing as usual LT! Thanks!
You are most welcome Jerry and thanks for the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Cobra’s were the baddest of the bad for close up ground support coming right at you.
This night stuff is crazy but saying that I suspect Nam and things that happened in Nam were more “not by the Book” than any other war.
Great read.
Keep it coming.
Chris
Grunt 69/70- 1st Cav and 199th Light Infantry
Yes, it was a weird time and possibly a really weird war, although guys and gals from the newer wars are saying it’t not been much different for them.
Semper fi, and thanks for the compliment.
Jim
Chris, my big brother was in the 199th in 69/70. In his letters to me his words were, “Stay in school you don’t want any parts of this”. After returning he never talked about VN. He suffered with PTSD for years and would not get help. Patrolled his neighborhood for hours at night. It all got the best of him in Nov 2015. He did what 22 veterans a day do. He was my hero. Miss him badly
Thanks for sharing, Mac and sorry for your loss.
Semper fi,
Jim
“What sense did it make for Cobra gunships to fly security around heavy-lift Hueys in the middle of the night if they couldn’t see?”
Marine Helicopters are designated Heavy (H-53), Medium (H-46), and Light (HU1-E). Rather than “heavy-lift Hueys,” perhaps just “Hueys.” Great detail!!
Yes, I learned all about that. We thought of the choppers that brought supplies as heavy lift because it seemed that they carried so much stuff.
The regular UH-1 choppers that flew medevac carried so much less. I did not know all that much about choppers when I went over there.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just reading has me sitting on pins and needles , Wow,
thanks for being there all the way through, like me at the time!
Semper fi,
Jim
Only an ‘armchair quarterback’ would have come up with such a plan…..someone sitting back at HQ looking at a flat map and wondering why you weren’t able to go from point A to point B as ordered…..”we will surprise Charley…we will sneak in “quietly”…and drop off a top team to take control and get this dog and pony show on the road…..” what a cluster fuk….
As to the choppers…in two years there 67-69′ with the 5th Marines..I never saw one Huey slick used by the Marines..Ours were all the smaller gun ship models. I don’t think the Marines ever had any troop carrying Hueys…the only thing we ever had were the CH 46’s (Chinooks) and the CH 34’s.. The army could blacken the sky with Hueys as they moved around…and we would look up from the jungle floor and cuss them as we kept walking… Semper Fi…
No offense but our Marine Huey’s were many times jammed with guys, both fngs and wounded. Sometimes they almost could not get off the ground or came in
so hard because they were overloaded. So, the rules and regs of those things I don’t know. I just know my time and place and what went on there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Can’t believe how things have gotten worse, resupply without notice, now another mess for you and Gunny to clean up and then try to salvage something from this new cluster. How you continued to solve and overcome shows how truly great of a soldier you are, and thankfully the Gunny is still around to help, but one has to wonder for how long.
Thanks for the comment and the notice of what’s going on. Yes, it did indeed get worse, although I came to quickly understand the getting worse
better. Apprediate the moment and your obvious care.
Semper fi,
Jim
Very intense story as always.
Thanks for telling it.
Thanks for the compliment and the support Bob,
Semper fi,
Jim
So either the Major screwed up, or command really didn’t have a clue what was happening. I think the later.
Almmost all officers screw up in fresh combat. That’s where the biggest mortality is.
They think they know and death comes in to teach them better.
Semper fi,
Jim
How frickin’ stupid is command to send those men in w/o letting you know? As far as what/who every one was expecting to be on the choppers the only analogy I can think of is a batter waiting on a fastball and then getting a curve. I hope you are able to get the wounded Marine of whatever rank and the the Sgt. back with you all safely.As strange as it may sound there is some honor and respect on the battlefield.
They didn’t want to know back in the rear, until they heard from their own superriors because the casualties
were running so high. Then they had to make it look like they were on top of the problem.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I don’t care about any grammer or spelling mistakes. As long as I get the message. 😉 Thank you!
Thanks Andrus. Much appreciate the acceptance and support…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great read James…and the folks in the rear coming out in the middle of the night…they were either clueless or idiots or both…and I had the feeling you allowing them to collect their dead and wounded would play into the picture later…humanity did exist, even if only in flashes, in the jungle…they had to be NVA regulars, all of them, because the VC would not have allowed you anything…anxiously awaiting the next segment.
Yes, humanity could appear on the battle field and in the rear by complete surprise and not with much
seeming rationality. Reminds me of the great Christmas Truce the troops on both sides pulled during WWI,
and the terrible trouble the rear area put them in after it was over. Thanks for the depth of your comment, and the
compliment at the end.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve read a lot of Vietnam war literature and yours is by far the best yet!! Plan on purchasing your book set at a future date. Thank you for sharing what must be painful memories..
Thanks a lot for the great compliment. On hot steamy nights in Wisconsin comments like yours keep me going.
Semper fi,
Jim
heavy-life Hueys or heavy-lift Hueys? Every chapter leaves me wanting more.
There were no ‘Heavy-lift” Hueys, the sources on here now tell me. The UH-1 designation was for light utility.
Apparently, there were only Hueys they used and stuffed with stuff and people sometimes. We didn’t know on the ground
the difference. Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
First time commenter. Really enjoy our work here. Deepest respect. JHM
Pg-1, like they landing in the center of a (delete underlined)
Pg. -1, around heavy-life Hueys (replace with “lift”)
Pg. – 1, their deadly trade or me, and the company had (Move comma: their deadly trade, or me and the company had)
Thanks for the help James! And the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Honor among enemies! ???
Yes, rare over there but there it was, and for the second time, and the second saving my life quite possibly.
Semper fi,
Jim
Good Lord, Jim! How in the hell? Just how in the hell?
Yes, Walt, how in hell? The times they were a changing…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Rockets would destroy our night vision. The miniguns on a cobra were under the chin bubble which kept the blue/white/red flame out of view. We used to black out the lower side of the running lights, leaving the upper side for us to see anyone below us. From behind it was possible to see the glow of the turbine exhaust. We could make out a lot of detail from the air and a muzzle flash was asgood as a homing beacon.
thanks for that illuminating display of combat knowledge. Yes to it all. Night fighting from the air was rare but definitely happened.
Semper fi,
Jim
I know it happened lol…been there, done that. Did it again last night. Thanks for reminding me just how fortunate I was to be able to spend most nights either in a bunk or at least on dry ground….
Yes, Kim, the dry is something to be treasured.
I can only imagine what some of the wet winter battlefields must’ve been like in WWII.
I love the dry and the heat was oppressive but survivable…
Semper fi,
Jim
1969 night missions in the Cobra were hairy…seeking a strobe or flashlight lens could be a challenge…we depended on the Arty FO to give us the ground situation and then corrections as we engaged. This could easily be compromised by the use of flares which could snag a helicopter…or mid air collisions! Summer of 70, 4/77 ARA had two,of these incidents loosing 6 Cobra pilots.
Thanks for the update on that Jack.
You had a certain advantage in that by 1969 you could talk from air to ground using the PRC25 radio which wasn’t possible when I was there.
Advising night fires from the air, wow, that must have been something.
How would the observer on the ground know where you guys were up there?
It was awful hard to figure out where the choppers were in the air when either the triple canopy jungle
or the night blocked the views.
Semper fi,
Jim
All firing had stopped and an eerie silence hung over the battlefield mud. There was only the sopund of river and the rain. The NVA knew where we were and they knew we were alive. (sound)
This is the book you can never set down until you read it to the end!
Thank you, Tom.
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Who would have thought your act of compassion towards the NVA dead would ever be repaid … and to see your own life spared within hours because of it. Just wow!
Some editing suggestions follow:
“… main transport Hueys dropped down, like they landing in the center of a hurricane …”
Suggestion: Seems as if “they” is extraneous as long as “landing” is used. Else “they landed”
“… make for Cobra gunships to fly security around heavy-life Hueys …”
Suggest “heavy-lift” instead of “heavy-life” That said, heavy lift would seem to describe a Chinook rather than a Huey. Maybe utility Huey or slick Huey or troop carrying Huey.
“The cobra rotary rounds didn’t explode …” Maybe capitalize Cobra.
“… heading north through up the bottom of the valley.”
Suggestion drop either “through” or “up”
Question: I’ve seen red and green tracer but not yellow. What weapon fired yellow tracer?
“They’d dumped what they had overboard into the mist mud.”
“mist” ?? Maybe “moist mud” OR maybe “mist and mud”
“All firing had stopped and an eerie silence hung over the battlefield mud. There was only the sopund of river and the rain.”
Suggest “sound” for “sopund”
“Shit,” the Gunny said, for the third time.’
Seems as if the single quote mark after … time.’ is not needed.
Thank you for this latest chapter. As always, at your own pace. Blessings & Be Well.
Thanks, Dan, for noticing.
I think all corrected
Semper fi,
Jim