I had heard of the RPG (rocket propelled grenade), the Russian version of America’s recoilless rifle. Basically it was a small rocket fired from a shoulder mount. The rocket body, about two inches in diameter, had a warhead about four inches. Because the weapon delivered more than two pounds of explosives to any target under two hundred yards away, it had a lot of punch. My first RPG experience came right after the mortars stopped landing in places more distant from my hooch, and small gouging into the earth meant to serve as my foxhole. No self-respecting fox would have considered the mud pit, however.
A North Vietnamese soldier using a Soviet made RPG-2.
The RPG came in from the middle of a distant bright flare of explosion not far from the perimeter. The terror of the projectile wasn’t in its detonation, which was considerable, but in its exhaust gasses. The fiery trace of white hot gas came in not four feet over my head. Later I would swear that I felt the heat of its passing, as unlikely as that was. The detonation took place with a huge roar and the jungle became like day for a few seconds — just long enough to insure that I was night blind after it went off. No more than twenty seconds later, before I could recover, another identical monster blasted through the same air the previous nightmare had occupied. Instead of experiencing incoming tracer fire for the first time, like on the night before, I was experiencing rocket fire directed to explode behind me — as if the enemy knew I was a runner and was taking that possibility off the table. It wasn’t until the third rocket went over that I recovered.
Just started seeing this story going around on face book and it grabbed my intrest and I read one chapter that popped up and then checked the menu and found I can read the whole book it’s been a hell of a read sir and I’m enjoying the hell out of it still haven’t gotten to the first chapter that got my attention but I will
Tom
THIRTY DAYS HAS SEPTEMBER, The First Ten Days, is out in paperback on Amazon. Thanks a lot Tom. Funny how some guys find out about the work way down the road and then
go back, like a television series on Netflix. Whom would have thought? Not me. The comment section is the best too.
Much enjoy writing back and reading the most treasured of opinions not shared anywhere else.
Thanks for being part of that…
Semper fi
Jim
James is this still under edit?? As I find things, I post, sorry if they have been posted already! Here is the one for this chapter I found “The pill was bitter as hell so I gobbled down my remaining John Wayne crackers. When I got to the bottom of the tin foil back I found another little bag, heavier than it should be: I am assuming tin foil back, should be tin foil pack??
Thanks for your sharp eye.
I believe many of the errors were caught in final edit prior to publication.
Appreciate your support, Mark
Semper fi,
Jim
By the way, I usually intend to read a chapter and end up reading 3. Great work. Thanks
Thank you Ira. The remarks made here do not escape my notice at all. I appreciate the supportive ones and puzzle over
some that I don’t necessarily understand as well. It’s always easy to accept compliments and shrug off criticism, although paying
attention to both often makes the work better, not only in editing backward because my memory is not perfect but also for the stuff I’m writing
right this minute.
Thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
You mention Ferlinghetti’s City Lights Bookstore and Haight and Ashbury which I associate with late 1960 counter-culture, beats, hippies etc… Wikipedia mentions the Red Victorian was also associated with counter culture at the time. So my question is: Did you actually hang out in these places or was this intended as irony as to where you’d be after being discharged from the Marines. If you actually hung out there, then a Marine or officer candidate in that environment would be a story in itself.
I was not a Marine candidate when I literally hung out at Ferlinghetti’s small shop. I was recovering at Oakland Naval Hospital on my first
medical leave. I could not walk right and had to have four by fours taped to my center incision to go out (my wife taped me up in the morning so I could go out because I could not stay in). I went to the book shop because my wife was a beautiful hippy and they loved her. She made them sort of ‘take me in’ which they did. They were true hippies in that they loved everybody because they knew I was just back from the Nam. They were there when I got trashed on giving my speech at San Francisco State on ‘Revolutionary Development.’ I went to the store with vegetative matter all over my uniform and they helped clean the mess up so I could go home and not tell my wife. Cool. I loved those people and still have some of the little yellow books of poetry they churned out.
Thanks for reminding me.
Semper fi,
Jim
Oh, my wife went there because we lived only four blocks away and it was on the way to the park.
I quit taking my malaria pills, the orange ones, during my first tour and never took them at all my second. I never had malaria, but did have scrubtyphus, probably from the ticks they said. I used the mosquito spray on the leeches and it worked very well. Just melted them away. In one valley near Bong Son they were like a plague. About five years ago I went to Afghanistan and they had a new type of malaria pill, which I took for a while… I was stationed with the Marines at Camp Leatherneck and even though I’m an old Army guy, if I had to go overseas again I’d ask to be with the Marines. We contractors got treated better by them — in my opinion — than by the Army (I had been with them in Iraq) and I liked how they ran things. Also enjoyed talking with some of the Marines who were actually going out beyond the wire. They reminded me of me when I was much younger. Lots of memories coming back just reading your book. Good work.
We used lit cigarettes on the leeches. Those worked but not so well in the moisture and rain
when you had to keep lighting them. The leeches would hold on for about twenty seconds after the heat was
held to their backs. I never heard of the repellant solution, which now seems so logical and more effective.
We all heard that gasoline worked too but we didn’t have that. We did the leeches off each other like monkeys
picking through fur on one another. Funny images. Anyway, glad the Marines treated you so well. Most ex-Marines
are pretty damned special and I’ve met some great former Army guys too. I really like the ex-green beret types.
They seem to have kept their stuff together through the years.
Thanks for the interest, the read and the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I spent many nights with Gen Abrams son at Blackhawk Firebase, he was he good guy. His dad flew in one day for a visit, pretty cool guy.
Abram’s sons all became General Officers in the Army. Which says something about
them but probably more about the Army. The one I knew at Fort Sill was a square away
neat dude, and I don’t know which one you are talking about. I never met the father.
Anyway, thank you for thinking and taking the time to comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
General Abrams son was an APC commander in 69. They tried to kill us with their 50 Cals. one night as we were moving in to reinforce their position.
Abrams son was a good guy. Very squared away and for some reason
he like Marines. He was tougher on the Army lieutenants because of
that fact, I think. Loved Fort Sill and the Army officers who
were so cool, not so up tight as my fellow Marine officers of the time.
Maybe a ‘Stripes’ kind of humor thing. .50’s were simply murderous on
the ground.
Semper fi,
Jim
We had to hump all of one night in a steady downpour about 18 clicks to get into LZ Penney on orders from on high. Got there about sunrise to find out General Abrams was coming in to review the LZ. They wanted us there with another company to make it look like there was a full company there. Got to shake the mans hand. I believe there were 4 cobras overhead while he was on the ground.
He came to dinner at my apartment with me and my very pregnant wife.
He was single at the time and a captain. But he was a cool guy and he
loved my 1966 GTO although would not drive it when I offered that night.
He didn’t drink either.
Semper fi,
Jim
The anti-malarial pills we got when I was there was “cloroquine-primiequine-phosphate”, a large orange pill that was taken once a week. Chloroquine was the stunt double for the laxative nobody needed. We also had little white pills. I don’t remember what they were.
Thanks Chuck. Yes, those big pills gave headaches too, and even though I got several bad ones I didn’t stop taking the damned things because I though
if Malaria got a hold of me out there I was dead for sure. I didn’t get the runs. Maybe my diet of ham an mothers!
Semper fi,
Jim
Great story. Keep it going. I can still see a leech rolling in a mud puddle. There were plenty of nasty critters in Vietnam. I guess the centipedes bothered me the most. During Monsoon all the critters went to high ground to sleep with us.
Semper Fi
Yes Jim, and I haven’t even gotten to the snakes yet. And the god damned ants that could not
be fought but only avoided. The monsoons were just awful. It was the only time we had suicides.
I learned later that the French had the same problems with the constant rains and without our
technology. I am pushing right on….
Thank you. Your comments mean a lot to me.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another Good Read…at least there were no Leeches….I am still feeling My neck for Leeches, as I read, and put myself there…..but Mosquitoes are bad enough…………and, Those Pills, for Malaria…Quinine I am assuming… Bitter beyond Belief……..!!!
Leeches give me the creeps to this day. I have these white circle scars they made under my
chin. People have asked over the years but what can I say? Oh, those are leech scars from
the mud in Vietnam. Now that would be a party stopper. Thanks for the kinds words Kay.
Love,
Jim