I made it back to my cave under the rock wall of the cleft I was holed up in, the one I’d spent some time hoping to get back to. I laid in the darkness, shedding outer pieces of my wet rotting uniform, and wondering about the reality of the combat I was hopelessly engaged in. The moving, moist, noisy and miserable tomb of the A Shau Valley gave nothing back. There was nothing to give. I thought about the movies I’d seen growing up. The troops and Marines in the field had litters and stretchers for the wounded. Cruikshank had come back inside a poncho cover, looking like nothing more or less than a giant moth pupa. In combat, Marines carried everything, and there was no way to order them to carry more, and nobody was going to carry an extra twenty pounds in case somebody else needed to be carried. If the Marines didn’t want to carry a load or disagreed with what was in it, then they simply dumped whatever it was into the jungle around them. Punishing them didn’t change anything. When a punishment, even as extreme as immediate death, is commonly administered among a human group the members of that group get used to it. The Gunny had been very peculiar and particular in how he’d described accommodating combat weeks earlier. Actual ground combat teaches, with death as its primary tool. It doesn’t teach by killing the Marines around you. It teaches by killing you.
“You need to come,” the Gunny said, from just beyond the outer edge of my hideout.
I knew why he was there. His premonition, when he’d resupplied my syrettes of morphine, about his own mortality in heading out onto the mud flat in the middle of the night had been just a little off. God had swooped in and taken the battalion executive officer instead, and in exactly the same way the Gunny had most feared would happen to him. I pulled my wet trousers back on, and then my stinky mess of a utility blouse. There would be time for the engorged small leech removal procedure later, or in the morning. The little leeches I’d taken on didn’t suck enough blood to weaken my body. It was the big ones in the back eddy waters of the Bong Song river, or those to be found deeper inside the middle of the thicker jungle, that sucked out one’s real life’s blood. Those had to be rid of as quickly as possible.
I crawled out, running into Fusner instead of the Gunny.
“I would presume the six-actual has been heating up the combat net about Cruikshank,” I murmured to him.
“No sir, nobody’s told battalion yet. The Gunny thought you had been the one to do that, being company commander and all, sir.”
“This way,” the Gunny said, keeping his voice low.
The NVA hadn’t fired a shot since the recovery effort had been started, but that couldn’t last and everyone in the company had to know it. The NVA held the huge chunk of jungle that ran between the cliff face and the river, running at least a kilometer or more down south toward where we’d originally come down into the valley. Hill 975 was loaded with another force, probably of equal size, not far from our position up north. The company was trapped between the river, the vertical canyon wall, and then between two nearly overwhelming enemy forces.
Nguyen appeared nearby, looking like the Gunny, Fusner and myself, the wetness of all of our ponchos glistening in some kind of light that didn’t seem to come from anywhere but from the ground and jungle outgrowth itself. I moved in behind the Gunny and headed the few meters north along the cliff face until he ducked under the lip of the rock and disappeared. I went to my hands and knees to follow him. A flashlight, covered with some kind of material to mute the light, gave off a dull red glow ahead. The cave-like cleft was bigger than the one I’d adopted as my own a few meters south along the wall. Jurgens was facing me deep inside by the light, and a larger figure who had to be Sugar Daddy was squatting next to him. One of the corpsmen worked on the battalion XO, who lay back down in the center of the cave. It was difficult, in the muted light, to make out what the corpsman was actually doing.
After a minute, or so, the corpsmen rocked back on his heels, squatting like Nguyen did when he was relaxing.
“Seventeen or eighteen rounds,” the corpsman whispered. “Took one of them right through his lights. There’s no coming back from that, not out here so far from a medical station. He’s alive but there’s no way.”
At that the corpsman quickly got his stuff together and pulled slowly toward the cleft opening, moving backward, like he was bowing out.
The lights. I remembered the phrase all the way back from a frontier novel I’d read years before. Lights were lungs. The XO had taken a round through both lungs. A double lung shot. Certain, but not necessarily instant, death.
“You’ll want this,” Tank, the Gunny’s radio operator said, moving from the darkness at the back of the cleft to hand the flashlight to Nguyen, who’d somehow squeezed past everyone to press himself bent over into the crease where the floor and the ceiling of the cave came together and ended.
Nguyen grasped the flashlight like it was some sort of diseased object, carefully suspending it in the air by making a web of the fingers of his right hand.
“Battalion command,” Jurgens said derisively aloud, moving toward the cleft’s entrance. “Just terrific. They send one idiot after another to accomplish what? Our supplies are out there on the mudflat, no doubt shot through with hundreds of holes. Idiots.”
I crouched by the side of the XO. Cruikshank lay flat on his back with his arms at his sides. An I.V. needle was inserted into the elbow of his upturned right arm, the bag held up by a C-ration can opener stuck into a crack on the cave’s ceiling. I couldn’t see his chest rise and fall in the bad light, with the mud all over adding to any ability to make out anything inside the cave in detail. I heard his breathing and I knew, as the corpsman had, there was no medevac that was going to save the major. If the man had been shot through the lungs inside an ER he might have had a chance, but even the severity of the ‘lights’ injury probably didn’t matter that much, as that deadly bullet was only one of many that had gone through him.
I leaned forward and peered into the major’s face. His eyes blinked and he gurgled in and out instead of breathing properly. His lips moved as if he was trying to say something but his lung damage was too severe. For some reason, his condition, and the fact that he was still alive and struggling made me angry.
“Get out,” I hissed to everyone around me, gesturing for them to exit the cave by pointing with my right forefinger back toward the entrance.
Jurgens and Fusner crawled away, and the Gunny faded out of the light, as well. I swung my arm around to bring my finger to bear on Nguyen but then dropped it, as the gesture was unnecessary. Nguyen held the light steady and stared with his black unblinking eyes over it. He wasn’t going anywhere.
I pulled out the packet of morphine syrettes with my right hand, opened one end of the small cardboard container, and very carefully let three of the syrettes fall into my other hand. There was no ceremony to be followed, and no reason to delay. Cruikshank continued to groan and croak softly, and it appeared in the bad light that he was turning his head back and forth slightly. There was no way to interpret anything from his moves, nor any point to it. I punched a needle from a syrette into his right thigh, through his utility trousers, then followed it quickly with two more. I sank back to wait, dropping the empty morphine tubes to the floor of the cave.
Nguyen put out the light, and the three of us sat in the dark, listening to the sounds of life in one of us slowly ebb away until there was only silence. The distant roiling of rushing water down the river came back, and the ever-present sound of the monsoon rain remained where it’d been all along, although unheard over the dying sounds of the major. I recognized the returning sounds as the basal backdrop of life in the A Shau. I looked over to where I couldn’t see Nguyen in the dark although I knew exactly where he was. He didn’t move, and I knew he wouldn’t until I did.
I replaced the morphine packet in my pocket. I had seven syrettes left, and I wondered when I’d be called on to use any or all of them again. My left hand went down to the outside of my left thigh pocket, where my wife’s letter was folded inside, ready to go out on any chopper that would stop long enough to let me get it aboard. I breathed in and out deeply and tried to relax. So far, in my thinking, I couldn’t come up with one part of one task I had to perform as a company commander of Marines in combat that I could ever tell my wife about.
“Sir,” I heard from behind me. The voice was Fusner’s.
“Battalion?” I replied, turning about to face the cave’s entrance.
There could only be one reason Fusner was asking for my attention.
“The six-actual, sir,” he replied.
A six-actual to talk to a six-actual. I was living an even worse version of Catch-22 than Yossarian had.
I couldn’t see it, but I knew the Prick 25 handset was pushed out between us. I stood to take it, while Nguyen passed from out of the cave, unaccountably rubbing up against me as he went. I pulled away a bit, and then realized he’d slipped the valuable flashlight into my back pocket as he went. I didn’t know who the thing belonged to but whoever it was in the company, he wasn’t getting it back.
“Six-actual,” I said, flatly into the microphone, going down into a squat, wondering it the conversation would be very long.
“Put the XO on, Junior,” the battalion commander ordered.
“He didn’t make it, sir,” I replied.
“The choppers didn’t come in?” the commander exclaimed. “I knew it. God damn it. They had plenty of cover and pretty damned good intel.”
“The choppers came in, sir, but the team was lost,” I reported, as succinctly and flatly as I could. “The choppers came into a hot L.Z. and if…” but I got no farther.
“If, my ass, Junior,” the commander screamed into the microphone, making me pull my own handset back from my right ear a few inches. “Don’t tell me Tommy’s dead, just don’t tell me that whatever you do…” he said, as his voice trailed off.
I waited, knowing now that the major’s first name had been Tommy and the commander’s use of his first name meant they were close.
“You and that ragtag company out there in God knows where. God damn it! What did you do to him?”
I held the handset out before me. I couldn’t think of anything to say. It came to me that the surprise nature of the XO’s visit had been concocted by the commander himself, so he could have a surprise inspection team analyze what was going wrong with a company that lost five to ten percent of its T.O. strength every single day.
“What did he do, Junior?” squawked out of the handset I held. “What did you do, Junior?” the commander screamed after that, each sentence accentuated with my nickname.
Suddenly and impulsively I brought the handset quickly up to my head. “He came down in the A Shau to learn about combat, that’s what he did, sir. And he learned all right, just as you wanted him to, sir.”
I held the microphone, pushed so hard into the side of my head that my ear hurt, but I could hear nothing. I waited, but the commander or the connection, or both, were gone. I didn’t know whether he’d heard me or not. I looked around. Only Nguyen and Fusner were nearby. The others had fled when the combat net exchange with battalion had begun, just like they’d fled when the major had to be put down. I slumped down a bit and sighed. I knew I’d have fled too if there’d been any way to do so that didn’t involve lessening my already tiny chance to survive. I was the ‘shit jobs’ officer and I knew it, and so did everyone in the company, and probably even back at battalion. Sadly, I also knew that my willingness to be just that was helping keep me alive, but it wouldn’t be something I could ever write home about or tell to any after war buddies I might make back in the states.
I handed the handset back to Fusner. The Gunny appeared out of the wet raining night. I’d left my helmet behind me in the cave, but as I turned to get it he stopped me.
“I’ve got it,” he breathed gently moving me aside with one powerful but gently applied hand. “There was no way for me to maintain if I took that call,” he said with his back turned.
He rummaged in the dark for my helmet. I thought of the flashlight in my back pocket where Nguyen had slipped it but I didn’t say or do anything.
The battalion commander had called me. I hadn’t placed the call and neither had Fusner. Someone had alerted the commander that there was bad news awaiting him. I also didn’t understand what the Gunny meant when he used the word ‘maintain.’ The sentence he’d obviously and carefully crafted sounded an awful lot like one I’d heard used in humor back at my college; “you’ve got to go there to get there, and get there to be there.”
The Gunny put the helmet gently down on my head.
“You’re a Marine Officer, Junior,” he said, too quietly for anyone else, even Fusner close by, to hear. “You’re maybe the best one I’ve ever known, or at least the only one who’s ever really listened worth a damn. Right now, you can’t believe that to be true. If we live, someday, you will.”
The Gunny straightened up, and then spoke louder, using his normal gravelly tone. “We’ve got to get those supplies. We need the ammo, especially the flechette stuff because those gooks aren’t going to stay quiet forever. We need you to man the Ontos.”
He said the last to me.
Another shit job, but this time there was some relief from the gnawing fear that had come back to make a nest inside the center of my being when I’d been out on the mudflats. I would be staying back inside an armored vehicle the NVA feared more than just about any other Marine Corps weapon, except maybe Puff the Magic Dragon.
“Unless, of course,” the Gunny continued, lighting a cigarette and sounding like he was talking to himself, “first light isn’t far off and they see Junior himself out there in that distinctive helmet…out there collecting our dead.”
I knew I wouldn’t be staying with the Ontos, and I almost smiled as a shiver of fear just lingering nearby, invisible to everyone but me, came charging back to entwine my core. Of course, I wasn’t staying back. I was maybe one of the best Marine Officers the Gunny had ever known. That was the part that made me finally smile, and coldly. The Gunny was a master player and I was but a pawn. The only good thing I could think of about going back out there on that open field of fire was the number of spider holes the enemy had dug earlier and then been forced to abandon. At least they might provide some cover if the light was good enough to see one or more of the well-disguised things.
I made one last attempt to stay back with the Ontos.
“You know, Gunny, they can’t make it at all without one of us.”
“Hell,” the Gunny laughed. “They can’t do without either one of us anymore if you haven’t noticed.”
“Who’ve we got?” I asked in resignation, knowing the Gunny would fully understand what I meant.
Getting me to go out there again was a lot easier for the Gunny than getting Marines from any of the other platoons to do so. And there would have to be at least two squads to haul all the junk back, not to mention the four remaining bodies.
Fusner messed with his radio nearby and then walked the few feet over to where the Gunny and I stood behind a stand of bamboo down from the berm. He stuck out one long gangly arm with the handset gripped at the end of it.
“Six-actual,” he said to both the Gunny and I and then waited.
I looked at the Gunny, but he only looked back at me through the smoke curling up from the end of his cigarette, without making a move. His expression, that I could only barely read, seemed to be one of a question, like what was I going to do? He puffed once more and again made no move to do anything.
“It’s Sugar Daddy’s turn,” I said, ignoring Fusner’s outstretched hand. I had nothing to say to the battalion six-actual. The major was dead, and the team that accompanied him was dead too. The Battalion wasn’t going to provide any assistance in getting our supplies off the mudflat and everything else in the valley, or out in the world, would wait until first light.
The Gunny grinned grudgingly and walked away into the night. His first objective to accomplish his mission, getting me to go back out, had been very successful. His second objective had been to avoid dealing with battalion directly. He’d accomplished that, as well. Now, all he had to do was convince Sugar Daddy that it was worth it for him to risk his platoon, probably for a healthy slice of whatever was laying out there shot full of holes.
I crawled back into my cave to get ready to go out. I found my pack and carefully pulled out the two M-33 grenades I kept there. They had a reassuring weight and feel to them, as I cradled them in the dark. I placed one in each blouse pocket on the front of my utilities. The grenades would make crawling along over the surface of the mud more discomforting and problematic but they wouldn’t cause me as much fear as carrying the small deadly things in my trousers. I wouldn’t need the pack for my return to the landing zone and I’d already determined that I’d never again go anywhere without Tex’s .45 and my K-Bar. They stayed on my belt. I didn’t need anything else.
When I came out of the cleft Fusner, Zippo and Nguyen were waiting. The night was different than it had been only minutes earlier. I knew I was sensing astronautical dawn, although there was still no distinguishable light to see by. Fusner had to accompany me, and I knew I didn’t have to discuss the plan with him but did mention that we’d need the AN-323 for air support. Zippo needed to stay with the Ontos and work with Sentry to follow our progress in the night, while it was still night. The Ontos was the only supporting fire we’d have, and there was no telling about air for the following day. Nguyen would do what Nguyen did, which was many times a mystery but was always something that ended up making me feel somehow more secure.
The crawl out across the mud was uneventful. More misting rain, the loud burbling rush of river water nearby, and the persistent presence of the small irritating leeches. The Gunny led with his radio operator and I followed. Sugar Daddy had chosen to string out his entire platoon, leaving one Marine every four or five yards, to relay stores back from the zone man-to-man instead of simply load up and carrying as much back possible. I didn’t like the idea of having one long line of Marines subject to enfilade fire (shooting straight through one man after another in a line with the same bullet) but there wasn’t any safe covering part of the mudflat to provide cover, anyway. The slope was faintly downward toward the thick jungle area, with the violent river to the right. Slipping and sliding along through the mud wasn’t much of a problem. I just hoped that getting back, if there was to be a getting back, would not be much more difficult.
Nautical dawn, that first tiny sliver of pre-dawn light was rapidly changing the landing zone from a completely black area into a grayish blackness that revealed not much more, but let me know that a brighter civil dawn was only minutes away.
The NVA didn’t open up until the Gunny and I were among the dumped supply canisters. I plastered myself face down into the thick mud, before realizing that the tracers were not intended for us. They were firing high.
As I’d feared, Sugar Daddy’s men were about to take some terrible losses, with the rest of us to follow, unless something could be done and done fast. It wouldn’t take them long to lower their fire and there was no way we were getting back to the berm before full daylight.
It’s tomorrow!! Just kidding. I agree with Pat. I just check the site to see if there’s a new post and if there isn’t I ending up saying to myself, “Well, I’m already here, might as well read it again.” And I always seem to find something new. I find myself talking to people quite a bit about your work. One thing that has really struck me from your writing (including the comments) is how you describe this beautiful world that we get to live in. It makes me very thankful and spurs me to try and help others who don’t get to wake up in that world every day. You have transcended in my view.
The new chapter is going up tonight and I cannot thank you guys enough for how much your motivation in wanting it helps my motivation in writing it. |’ve never know any other
writing to be so interactive. So many of the men like you will have had a stake in this and yet most will never realize it…like in combat…
The medals never ever made it to the right guys…not the the right guys much cared once there were out in the shit…
Semper fi,
Jim
Not sure how many times I’ve read this chapter. One thing I’m sure of, “You’re a Marine Officer.” “You’re maybe the best one I’ve ever known.”
Well, Sir, you did live through it, barely!
I don’t think Gunny saw you as a pawn but I do believe he meant what he said and hope today, as you share with us, that you finally believe it.
(not sure if this is the place to ask but is there more of Thunder Marine coming in the future?)
Yes, Thunder Marine will be published in September….
I had to wait for something in the real world to go away because these thrillers are all based on
real events, like Thirty Days and I have to be careful…
Semper fi,
Jim
Just re-read this one for the third time. For some reason I don’t continue to get email notices every time you release another chapter…hence I go to the web site to check and wind up doing a re-read! This has been a great story Jim, I’ll be happy to buy the last book when you have it finished! SFMF!
tomorrow for the next chapter Pat!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
I have not commented in awhile but I still wait and watch for new chapters. Great writing as usual.
Ken
thanks Ken, means a lot to me…
Semper fi,
Jim
Once in awhile I need to get my mind right to read the next chapter, it is intense Lt. Great segment….
Thanks Al, sorry it took me a bit to respond…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Someone had alerted the commander that there was bad news awaiting him.” I’m thinking the alert came not from someone contacting BN but rather the lack of communication from the landed team. Bates had a radio. I’m guessing sitreps from the team had been preplanned – possibly upon insertion and again when they met up with your company. Since that failed, the backup would be to contact you. The dialog that follows indicates the BN CO was in denial that his plan was flawed.
I could be completely wrong on this. Only you know how the story will progress. I will learn when you post it.
I submitted a comment the night this segment was posted. I assume you will reply in due course.
Blessings & Be Well
Thanks Dan for the speculation and analysis. I will reveal more as we go…
Semper fi,
Jim
Great story James,
I notice you make mention of leeches a lot. Did you have many mosquitoes in that dank valley?
Thanks, Daniel
Oh yes, I don’t write of them too often because it gets a bit boring.
Semper fi,
Jim
On them dark rainy nights….did you ever get the feeling someone was watching you..
Nguyen, in the story, kind of gives you a feeling for what that ‘being watched’ thing was all about in the jungle.
He was a good watch, but still.
In the jungle, like in a small town, everything and everybody watches everyone else, while not letting on they are watching…
But you know the feeling of being prospective prey…
Semper fi,
Jim
As a member of MACVSOG recon I ran about a dozen missions in Ashau. It became a place that I feared greatly. Moving around with 6 or 8 guys knowing that any moment you could be overwhelmed by one bad move. As we learned later, we were used more for bait than anything. I look forward to each chapter, even though it puts me back in a place I feared. It is nice to know that someone else knows on a personal level what a terrible place the Ashau was. Thank you for putting it in words!
Thanks for the verification about what the A Shau was really like. I try hard to portray what it was like but only guys like
you can verify that I’m getting it spot on. Thanks for the compliment in your wording too…
Semper fi,
Jim
MacVsog rt viper. Always crossed the valley into Laos. A vacation paid for by the uncle. The natives weren’t friendly. The food sucked but the scenery didn’t make up for it. The Jungle glowed at night. Erie but part of the package.
Thanks for the realistic portrayal Carryit
Semper fi,
Jim
You hanging in there ok?
Don’t let memories eat you up.
I’m ok with a break if needed.
Scott
Nah, I’m okay.
Those things have been there for years and over those years I’ve gotten kind of accustomed to dealing with things.
Hard writing but not impossible by any means…
Semper fi,
Jim
What a nightmare in fact the war was for most of us that was there. Lt. you have a great way with your story. Keep it coming. Semper Fi!
thanks Walter, for the compliment in your words…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Walter!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Death………”it doesn’t teach by killing the Marines around you….it teaches by killing you…” and oh…what a lesson that is…the frailty of life on the killing fields..the randomness of the picking and choosing of the falling mortor rounds..the single bullet that stops in the throat of the guy next to you, just sitting there enjoying his can of peaches…”it” teaches the futility of living a good life, trying to be something or someone to be proud of…that heartless bitch called death takes away so much of our ability to dream, to hope..and leaves us with the single desire to live one more hour.. Time is our only friend…how long until dawn… there is so much imbedded in the phrase that describes ‘our’ war….it said everything..and nothing at all to those that never laid on those jungle floors in the mud…”Fuck it….don’t mean nothing “….
and then..
“what did you do to him? (Tommy) the deep sigh..the rolling of the eyes skyward, praying for strength..”what did “”I”” do to him?…”…and then repeat a couple of times while deciding how NOT to respond…sometimes wishing you could be “Tony Poe” for just a moment on the radio back to Six Actual….. As Always LT…Semper Fi
Thanks for the extensively great comment Larry and the help with editing!
Semper fi,
Jim
Another riveting chapter. I don’t know how you managed to maintain your sanity in that madhouse without any semblance of rhyme or reason as to why you were in that particular place. I was wondering if it would have been possible to wait for daylight and air cover to retrieve the supplies or did the weather prevent the possibility of air cover?
I didn’t maintain my sanity and that should e a bit apparent in some of the writing.
I’m not sure I’m fully recovered even now!
Semper fi,
Jim
again the highlight of my week—awaiting next segment with eager anticipation but also dreading the end of the story which is rapidly approaching—may God bless you for your service and sacrifice
thanks for the great compliment Stanley!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Everyone in today’s army has night vision, in our day, there was maybe, one starlight scope in the company, it really sucked at night not being able see.
I love this adventure. Though I barely understand some vocabulary stated, but I could imagine the struggle for survival of a marine officer. It is captivating.
I was too engrossed in the story to see any edits as others have. What a great story you have. I was talking to a friend on the fourth about his scout dog days. I told him he needed to write it down, not for publication, but for the information that only he could share. Hopefully he will. I had a patient who went to Woodstock at 16yo that had never told anyone about it, and the two girls she went with were dead. She promised to write her memory but died before she did. Another patient was involved in the Bay of Pigs invasion. I encouraged his story, but doubt that he took time to write it. You are doing such a good job with making your memories into a very readable story. Thank you
Thank you, Kemp.
Continue to encourage friends to tell their story.
Semper fi
Jim
What is your email address?
antaresproductions@charter.net
Thanks for asking Robert…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Lt. This Chapter reminds me of the old terminology term to “live and learn”. except in this case it might be better to make it live to learn. Take care Lt. Wes Holt.
BMNT vs Nautical dawn? Compelling. Brings back many memories.
The next time when asked what the definition of insanity is, I shall simply say, “Thirty Days Has September ”
Great job as always.
I think others may feel the same way, Glenn
Semper fi
Jim
Such a strong picture painted of life or lack of life in the universe of trying to stay alive and keep others alive in the most hostile environment. Unbelievable conditions and even worse for support from command. The inner fear of death at any moment and the constant struggle to maintain some shroud of safety without the expected, much need support from command is so hard to understand. Hard to believe a full company of Marines pitched out with the dishwater yet here it is for real.
Thank you for your comment, JT.
The ear of as it becomes a reality is “uncomfortable” to say the least.
Semper fi
Jim
I have spent the last couple years looking forward to the next segment. I check in every day. As we approach the end I am finding myself filled with an almost anxiety or dread of what is coming next. My fear mostly involves the gunny and your morphine because we already know about your wounds. Knowing what is coming doesn’t make it easier to read. I can’t imagine how hard it is to write. Take your time. Get it right. We’ll be patient. Thank you, sir!
Your support is so much appreciated, Don.
have you shared this story with any friends?
Semper fi
Jim
I wonder if your Gunny made it back to the USA in one piece? I guess your future scribblings will tell all….. Excellent writing keep it up please.
I just want to know what’s your political party of choice.
It has no bearing on this site. I have a personal Facebook page, three group pages, a newspaper page and one for my
cat. I think you can form a conclusion form those so there is no point here.
Semper fi, and thanks for asking.
Jim
Lt. question, no smoke grenades or 60mm mortar smoke ???
Smoke does not work in heavy mist, and many times heavy rain, as it was the monsoons.
Semper fi,
Jim
As usual got me hanging on every word! Gunny would have been a great coach, I’m sure. Right on time with his motivational praise! Sunrise finds you in a tough spot,again! Look forward to the next chapter Jim! Semper Fi!
Thanks Jack, I am working on the next segment today, trying to get back to the weekly exercise regimen I tried to hold myself to
without much success…
Semper fi,
Jim
I do not read these episodes for litany content, syntax or grammar. What I read them for is the emotional reaction to a real world scenario. The description of how life was inside the A Shaw for a Marine rifleman is spot on. The raw emotion and fear are captured on a personal level.
Thanks for telling our story. Keep up the writing. Semper Fi
Thanks a lot John. The compliment is well written and well received.
Semper fi,
Jim
So the Major wasn’t just additional cannon fodder to be thrown into the field – he was a valued member of Battalion command. Battalion was oblivious to or in total denial of what was actually happening in the field. Wonder how many medals Battalion command received for the blood shed in that valley so many miles from their air conditioned bunker. Not sure how you maintained any semblance of sanity at this point. Thanks again for the update. You paint a painfully descriptive picture with your words.
The battalion commander was eventually court-martialed but acquitted with an
outraged minority report written by a lieutenant on the court who was a real combat vet.
The colonel eventually received the Legion of Merit prior to his retirement. He is still alive in
Arizona. Yes, I do think about that but never go to Arizona.l
Semper fi,
Jim
I
I wonder if he would read the book if you sent it to him
Whom are we talking about?
Semper fi,
Jim
Great read. Thank you Sir. Semper Fi
Thanks a lot David and your compliment means a lot to me…
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt outstanding! Makes me grip the edge of my seat! Keep up the good work!
Left holding my breath again, war is hell no matter which way you look at it. Salute Junior
You still have us by the heart. Your men, your situation, your enemy, and the total lack of support by Command. It is the prayer of all of you that your war is never repeate. It seems to be rushing headlong to a very nasty ending, and is being told in the same way. Sorry to have to ask: Sgt Bates, I’ve missed him somehow. Appreciate your hinting to the other follower that we will see him again. Thank you LT. Poppa J
Sargent Bates show up in Twenty Third Day.
Thanks for all of your support, , Poppa
semper fi, Jim
It was good to read that Tank was back with the Gunny. I know he got wounded towards the end of book 2 and was wondering if he got evacuated.
Thank for following. Sorry late in response, Chuck
Semper fi
Jim
Well ~~ this one too brought back well buried memories.
Another that did the same shocked me 2 days ago. I’ve been 40% since ’68. Filed for an increase and went to 100%. That really brought me to my knees.
Glad to hear you are finally recognized, JWR.
Thank you for your support and service. Semper fi
Jim
Peters thought exactly, makes us feel like we are there with you, and always on the edge of the seat.
Another nail biting segment.
““I’m Sergeant Bates, serving as aide to the major,””
Where did Sergeant Bates go? Let him talk to the “Six-actual,”!!
Sgt Bates is found in the Twenty Third Day
Thank you for being such a loyal reader.
Semper fi,
Jim
The good thing about being late to read this is I don’t need to worry about edits.. Your followers do a remarkable job of spotting details.. I only saw one.. “junk” and several others beat me to it..
Another riveting read L.T.
Thank you.
Thanks for the usual great comment Glenn. I think Chuck took care of that one. Lots of editing on this segment and I edited four times myself!!! Better writer than an editor.
No kidding! Thanks for the nice comment and the help.
Semper fi,
Jim
truly a great writer LUT. KEEP GOING !!!
Thanks Harold! Every time I think I’m right in the groove then life comes at me in substantial forms.
But here I am, writing away, thanks to vets and others like you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great read…I fear retaliation if Sugar Daddy loses a lot of men…even though the single line out in the open was his idea…once again right there in the stinking mess with you..,
Yes, it was hard to stay on top of anything. It’s not like there are less people to make decisions
out there in the thick of it. There are more opinions than you can shake a stick at, and most of them
are dismally wrong. But there it was…and you can’t stay on top of everything either.
Semper fi,
Jim
One of the 6 made it Right? I though that is what I read last chapter . any Intel from him? I would have though you would have gotten some more of a idea of what command was doing or wanting to do?
Sgt Bates is discussed in this episode.
Twenty Third Day
Thnak you for your support,
Semper fi,
Jim
Opinion are like assholess, everyone has one😇
Thank you for your interest, Safiu
Semper fi
Jim
“I was maybe one of the best Marine Officer’s the Gunny had ever known,” . . .
Officer’s?
You have me on my seat each time. WOW!
Thanks, Tom,
Noted and corrected.
Semper fi
Jim
Is Gunny finally becoming a fan! Great installment !
Thanks for the opinion and the writing of it here. Thanks for the great compliment, as well…
Semper fi,
Jim
Perhaps “had been” should read “should be”. “No sir, nobody’s told battalion yet. The Gunny thought you had been the one to do that, being company commander and all, sir.”
thanks for the editorial help Floyd!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Cruikshank had come back inside a poncho cover, looking like nothing more or less than a giant butterfly “pupa”…
Butterflies form a ‘chrysalis’ before emerging as a butterfly…moths form a pupa inside a cocoon…suggest changing ‘pupa’ to ‘chrysalis’…or ‘butterfly’ to ‘moth’ if ‘pupa’ is the word that you prefer to use.
Appreciate your attention to detail. Corrected.
Semper fi
Jim
Technically, I believe “pupa” and “chrysalis” are synonymous. I think it is fine as written.
Keep the stories coming, sir!
What happened to Sgt. Bates? Or, will we find out later?
What are you? Prescient? Thanks for the comment, though…and stay tuned..
Semper fi,
Jim
Well done
thanks for the compliment Thomas!
Semper fi,
Jim
As I read it, I can see it, appearing as if from a long forgotten dream. The trees and the open ground before it. I think this episode will awaken some dreams that were put away for a while. Your descriptions of the night are awesome, bringing out the suspected or real terror of the night. Keep up the good work and waiting for the next day.Jerry
That’s quite an in depth analysis and compliment, both together and I thank you for the attention liking the work…
Semper fi,
Jim
As usual, you do an outstanding job of making us feel lke we are “right there.”
Two things in the 4th paragraph from the end:
“leaving one Marine every four or five yards, to belay stores back from the zone man-to-man….”
Need to change “belay” to “relay.”
“one long line of Marines subject to enfilade fire (shooting straight through one man after another in a line with the same bullet)….”
I know what you mean, but you need either to change the word “enfilade” or change the definition you provide. It’s close, but not quite accurate.
Wikipedia gives good definitions and diagrams on these words.
Thanks for your input, Peter.
Semper fi,
Chuck
The general simply has no idea of combat. He will be responsible for many lives but will go home with his patches. Maybe Sgt Bates can clue him in if he makes it back.
Interesting comment before the next segment…and thank you…
Semper fi,
Jim
“You and that ragtag company out there in God knows where. God damn it! What did you do to him?”
Blame shifting and denial it seems were the way to keep your rank !! Seen it myself a time or two.
Once again on the edge of my seat James, keep it coming !!
SEMPER Fi
Thanks Sgt….much appreciate your comment, as usual…
Semper fi,
Jim
Night fighting was always the very worst! I hated it, night rescues were so dangerous! You have conveyed this well and it bring back m,emories. You are doing a great job Sir.
Thank you, Parker and I am glad we are both here to comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow just when you think it can’t get any more intense all hell breaks loose. Hope is some air cover coming in pronto.
Jim… And the saga continues. Some of your readers get pissed when others offer suggested edits. I know you appreciate the edits since you are writing a story for publication. Here are three suggested edits.
The NVA held the huge [junk] of jungle that ran between the cliff face and the river, running at least a kilometer or more down south toward where we’d originally come down into the valley. Edit: change “junk” to “hunk”
I heard his breathing and I knew, as the corpsman had, there was no [medivac] that was going to save the major. Edit: although “medivac” is commonly used, the correct term is “medevac” — short for MEDical EVACuation.
“You know, Gunny, they can’t make it at all without one of us.[] Edit: add closing quotation mark
Sugar Daddy had chosen to string out his entire platoon, leaving one Marine [for] every four or five yards, to belay stores back from the zone man-to-man instead of simply load up and carrying as much back possible. Edit: delete “for”
Appreciate your sharp eyes, Steve
Corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
I know this song was written years after you left the A Shau (1989?), but it was what popped into my head as I read this.
“Rock And A Hard Place”
The fields of Eden
Are full of trash
And if we beg and we borrow and steal
We’ll never get it back
People are hungry
They crowd around
And the city gets bigger as the country comes begging to town
We’re stuck between a rock
And a hard place
Between a rock and a hard place
This talk of freedom
And human rights
Means bullying and private wars and chucking all the dust into our eyes
And peasant people
Poorer than dirt
Who are caught in the crossfire with nothing to lose but their shirts
Stuck between a rock
And a hard place
Between a rock and a hard place
You’d better stop put on a kind face
Between a rock and a hard place
We’re in the same boat
On the same sea
And we’re sailing south
On the same breeze
Guiding dream churches
With silver spires
And our rogue children
Are playing loaded dice
Give me truth now
Don’t want no sham
I’d be hung drawn and quartered for a sheep just as well as a lamb
Stuck between a rock
And a hard place
Between a rock and a hard place
You’d better stop
Put on a kind face
Can’t you see what you’ve done to me
Thanks for sharing Rob and your continued support.
The rendezvous is organized for September.
Santa Fe Rendezvous
Semper fi, Jim
Once again describing hell for us, wondering who will be next to buy it. Can’t believe they came in like that without contacting you.Y you have to be getting close to extraction I would hope.
Thanks for your continued support, Pete.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT:
Paragraph 7 sentence 2 I suggest you change “junk” to “chunk”.
Hooah.
Keep up the GREAT work.
Hanging on every word… Thank You Sir. Semper Fidelis.
My job was convoy security and a few patrols.
I don’t know or understand how you and others
held up in this kind of hell.
God bless
Another great chapter. Thanks Jim you sure know where to stop leaving us wanting for more. Look forward to the next chapter.
Thanks, Bud.
Semper fi,
Jim
Cafe’ to cave
aeronautical to nautical
Hadn’t thought of BMNT in a long time
Another great story
Seller Fi
Thank you for the sharp eyes and your support, Ron.
Semper fi,
jim
>>> Those had to be rid of as quickly as possible.
…gotten rid of…. ??
>>>The NVA held the huge junk of jungle that ran between the cliff face and the river
huge chunk??
Corrected, Tom.
really appreciate your support.
Books are on the way
Semper fi,
Jim
“to belay stores back” – should maybe be “relay the stores back”
LT, this is some of the best writing you have done. Relating the death of the Major, dealing with the Colonel, getting to the supplies – you set the tension high, then maintain it.
I have never “helped” a person the way that you did, but did “help” a number of animals. Hurts, recalling them. Hearing the scream of a horse hit by a car, or the low murmuring of a cat or dog eaten up with the cancer. Hard to imagine doing that to a person, but it was necessary at the time and place. Thank you for the ability to write out your emotions the way you have.
James, do you think my original comment of 7/7 @ 0814, will ever be “moderated”??? Kinda feel left out, left over.
Sometimes I get behind but I will be up tonight. Sorry.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Craig, for the sincerity and depth of that compliment. I much appreciate the motivation it gives me to continue…
Semper fi,
Jim
Riveting.
How?
Wow, hard story to tell. Really felt this one.
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this one … “Actual ground combat teaches, with death as its primary tool. It doesn’t teach by killing the Marines around you. It teaches by killing you.” I was not infantry but had folks killed and wounded nearby. Some taught lessons on what not to do that changed my behavior.
I’m surprised Bates was not present for the Major’s demise. Maybe just not able to deal with it.
Again, thank you. At your own pace. Be Well.
I wish I could write something to accurately express the feelings in my soul as I read your chapters, Junior, Sir. To compare it to physical pain that takes one to the edge of consciousness but no further, and then lingers, is the best I can do. How is it possible that we were there in that terrible experience almost a half century ago and it still holds such sway on my heart. This however is very cathartic, and makes my eyes water. What was I thinking when I joined the Corps and then chose WestPac over El Toro from radio school, I can’t remember. I turned 20 near Ca Lu, and every day feel guilty that I came home.
Thanks for the depth of that compliment and also the sharing of some of your heartbreak over the war.
Yes, the detail in the story kind of gives away the fact that so many of us had that stuff burned into the core of our very being,
not just into our memories. No medicine is going to anything for that, unless give some respite for a bit.
Semper fi
Jim
I like this blog and the kind of stories it chunks out. They’re all good for the reads