The mess of stationery I carried was a collection of soggy, semi-wet and dried water stains holding strands of paper together. The envelopes were in the best shape because I’d rolled them into a tight tube and used one of my extra trouser springs to hold them together. I released the spring and carefully pulled out an envelope in the very center, unfolding it as I went while making sure the pack of stationery and envelopes stayed guarded under the tipped-up edge of my tilted helmet. I was under my poncho cover, and the wet mud of the river bank wasn’t really all that wet, but still, I fought to maintain as much moisture security as I could cage together. The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds that poured drizzling rain down into the heart of the valley where the company, and what was left of Kilo, had gone down following the debacle of taking out the cliff top snipers. Blowing the drums along with them had been a great positive bonus.
It wasn’t quiet by any means but at least the night would not be owned by the NVA.
I smoothed out a whitish blue sheet of the only stationary I could get from resupply. I tried to ignore the envelope that was unfurling itself next to the sheet of paper, but I could not. There were two printings on the left face of the blue-shaded envelope. The first was in the upper left corner, making it difficult to put a proper return address in that traditional area. The printed symbol was in gold and white with little black lines. It was the Marine Corps globe and anchor. Below that was the worst part. A half-envelope-wide and two-thirds-envelope-high rendering of the American flag being raised up over Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima. The two symbols together illustrated everything that was wonderful about the Marine Corps and being a Marine, and especially being a Marine Officer. The images wouldn’t let me write to my wife. I wanted to throw up, instead.
I leaned closer to the envelope and picked up my cheap U.S. government pen. I clicked the little tab on top and exposed the tip through the small hole at the other end, conscious of each tiny move the pen and I made together. My right hand moved slowly across the paper and over to the envelope. Very intently, right next to the globe and anchor symbol, and very close to the very corner, I wrote two numbers. They were both twos. Twenty-two. Twenty-two Marines had died, a dozen from falling rocks blown outward from the face of the cliff by my short round and then ten more burned to death from the inside out by chunks and pieces of white phosphorus when the ranging round I’d called to correct came in too short and exploded too low. I’d gotten the adjustment location wrong and the battery had followed up by getting the elevation from the bottom of the valley up to the altitude of the round going off. I would never tell anyone back home about what the two numbers signified. Never. My wife would never guess or know either.
I thought my emotions were gone but suddenly they were not. My eyes filled, forcing me to look around intently. It was still light enough to see me, although only my scout team was nearby. Fusner messed with the Prick 25, constantly rubbing and cleaning it, using the rain as his solvent. Zippo sharpened his K-Bar knife with a piece of stone taken from the river. He said the stone was some sort of special Indian sharpening stone but nobody believed him. Nguyen sat in his usual bent-knee crouch, staring out toward the area of the river but not really. I knew he was watching me. I knew in my heart of hearts that all three were making believe they weren’t watching me. The Gunny had told me many days before that if I could not act like the commander then I should at least look like the commander.
I pushed my poncho cover back over my shoulders, making my writing space almost too dark to see anything. It was wet and raining outside of my small little-protected cleft. The tears came. I’d held them back like a drunk trying to find a place to vomit but unable to until, at last, it didn’t matter. I’d killed twenty-two of my own men in seconds, some in the most awful way possible. I’d been fifty meters off. I’d been fifty meters off twice in a row. It was unforgivable.
I didn’t make any noise or show any sign that I was crying like a baby, and I was proud of what was left of my self-respect for that discipline.
I could still see the Marine Corps symbols in the poor light. They were right there in front of my face, but I knew down to my core, to the depth of my soul that I was not a real Marine. Real Marines didn’t cry. Real Marines did not kill their own men, much less so many of them that he could not keep count. Real Marines sucked it up and moved on. Adapt and survive. Fire and maneuver. Any decision is better than no decision.
The men at the flag raising could not see me, even if they came alive. Not one face in the flag raising photo reproduction was turned in my direction. They stared straight ahead, at the pole they were fighting upward. Intent. Mission-oriented. Real Marines.
I had to write. Later in the night, we’d reach a position further up the valley. We’d stopped far enough from the jungle outgrowth of the east wall, as the canyon wall had grown ever lower in elevation. Far enough to escape ambush or attack from that direction. Close enough to allow us to gather our dead and wounded and prepare for a move that would now allow us to get medivac choppers in to pull them all out. We’d suffered the worst losses since I’d been with the company and the casualties were all my very own.
I wanted to write letters home to all the survivors, but how could I write twenty-two letters and how many on top of that for the badly wounded. The Gunny had come to get what little morphine I had left, but not to end any Marine’s misery by taking him out, but instead just to ease the burns of those still living. The Gunny had said that the sound of the wounded crying and whimpering was worse for the men than the drums. He also wouldn’t let me go forward to view the havoc I had let loose.
“It wasn’t you,” he whispered. “It’s just what happens in this kind of shit. The men understand, better than you think. Don’t quit on me. You’ve lived longer than any company grade officer we’ve had and God Himself can’t call better-supporting fire than you.”
I hadn’t cried in front of the Gunny. The cigarette and matches he’d left me lay across the top of the sheet of stationary I was trying to write on. The cigarette was a Pall Mall, I saw, reading the elegant tall black printing on the white of its tobacco tube. It still had the long filter still on it. The Gunny always pinched the filter off but had either neglected to do so or maybe thought I’d be more likely to find some solace in the gesture if he left it on. The Gunny was too inscrutable to figure out which it was.
I lit the cigarette with shaking fingers. My shakes were back although I wasn’t in terror this time. I smoked the cigarette, breathing in and out deeply until the area under my poncho cover became fully dark from the dense smoke. My eyes hurt but they stopped dripping tears. Maybe the Gunny’s wisdom extended to fixing crying officers, as well.
I crushed out the cigarette halfway through. Whatever value I was expected to receive had already been imparted. I checked the matches and wondered how the Gunny could keep them so dry in the awful hot and wet conditions they were living in.
I picked up the pen again and started to write. I wrote about my world, but not the reality of that world:
“My world is a shrunken husk of a thing, all green, wet and filled with teeming amounts of animals and plants I’ve never seen or even heard of. I eat my C-rations and nothing else. I drink water from resupply containers or that which frequently flows down off my poncho cover. My Marines are my humans, with the enemy being either almost unseen or dead. My Marines are grunts who scorn everything and everybody. My sense of smell is gone. My clothes are a tattered collection of dirty dish rags and the aroma from it must be awful, but none of us notice. My wallet has fallen apart, as have all my pictures from home. Only laminated stuff survives for very long. I only carry two weapons. My .45 I got from one of the other officers and two M-33 grenades I keep in my pack so the pins won’t come out accidentally. I have my scout team of about fifteen Marines who guard me all the time so I am pretty safe except at night. Nights are hard, especially in the rain because you can’t hear anything. Can’t see and can’t hear, like when we are in contact. All flashes and darkness, with more flashes. I wonder if my hearing will ever be as good as it was before I came here. I never thought about how loud it could all get but I should have known with Dad being on the pistol team, and all. A kid named Fusner is my radio operator and he does everything for me that I need to be done.”
I reread my work. It was legible, and I’d said nothing that might worry her. My scout team was a mere whisper of what I’d written but she couldn’t know that.
I thought about crossing out Fusner’s name but then realized I was falling into the superstition trap so many of my Marines lived in. Mentioning another Marine’s name was supposed to mean that that Marine would soon die. The government pen wasn’t erasable, or I might have taken him out just as an afterthought, but I didn’t. Maybe, one day, if I made it home with any kind of decent health I’d be reading the letter with Fusner’s name in it and laughing. Hopefully, with him.
I examined the envelope closely. It wasn’t the normal ‘Marines raising the flag on Iwo’ thing. Instead, it had a small map near the left edge. The countries of North and South Vietnam were inset in white against the blue window under a place for my return address. I wondered how my return address could be “F.P.O. San Francisco” when I was so far away. I checked out the tiny map and realized it was the only map of the whole country I had or had seen since landing at Da Nang so long ago. The A Shau wasn’t on the map but I knew it was located just a bit east of the Laos border and down from the DMZ, which was printed there with two dotted lines close together. The map told me that I was directly inland from Phu Bai, a place I’d heard of, but knew nothing about. I sealed my wife’s letter into the sticky envelope and put it into my thigh pocket, noting the fact that my morphine supply was gone. I wondered if I’d be resupplied with syrettes later on. I hoped that wouldn’t happen but I was past feeling the kind of dull regret I’d had the first times I had to use it.
I pulled out my artillery one to twenty-five thousand and oriented it easily because the direction of the valley extended almost exactly from the north down to the south. I checked the contour intervals, as the valley wall to my east lowered to the north. A faint idea came into my head. I looked at the envelope again and then back at my ‘real’ map.
“Barnyard chickens,” I whispered to myself, “we have to eat so the chickens have to die.”
I knew the analogy was idiotic but, in a strange way, it made sense. I was not in control, other than to very marginally try to steer my way through the nightmare without end as best I could. That I might become attached to the chickens under my farm care made sense, just as it made sense when they had to be killed and put into a soup pot. It was just the way it was.
Sugar Daddy appeared before me, his dark face, muddy utilities and purple glasses making him all but invisible. His bulk had been the giveaway that it was him.
“You saved our ass,” he said, his voice low before I could react to his presence in any way. “You had to know. You always fucking know. That’s why you’re Junior. That’s why you didn’t put a name on the plan. We owe you.”
And then he was gone, retreating backward in near silence, back into the looming stygian darkness of the wet darkness, only the rivers slushing current and ever-present mud letting me know exactly where I was. I lay with my head up, my helmet blocking the rain, its drops coming down so soft they didn’t even patter against my helmet cover. I tried to take in the meaning of what Sugar Daddy had said. Somehow, his unit on the point had passed far enough beyond the beaten zone where the rocks and white phosphorus had come down to escape casualties. And somehow, Sugar Daddy and his Marines had it in their heads that I’d planned the whole thing that way. I breathed in and out, wanting one of the Gunny’s cigarettes, although I knew in working with the casualties we had taken he’d be smoking everything he had. Another thought occurred to me. If Sugar Daddy thought I’d save him and his men then what must the others think?
I got to my hands and knees and moved to where Fusner sat huddled under his own poncho cover.
“The Army has to extract the bodies up on 975,” I said. “Call it in. We can’t help them but with a significant force of gunships they shouldn’t have too much of a problem.”
“What about our own,” Fusner asked, not reaching for the radio handset.
“Some of our own are up on that mountain,” I reminded him. “We’re going to have to carry our own down here but the terrain is going to flatten, as we head to the north, and then to the east.”
“We’re not going north or east,” the Gunny said, from behind me. “The 9th Marines out of Phu Bai are coming down the valley to clear the area. They’ll take 975 and everything else up here. We’re headed back down to secure the flank.”
The Gunny pushed a cigarette through the soggy air at me. I took it, inhaled once and then passed it back, my mind a jumbled mess of confused thoughts. I realized my thoughts had little to do with my Marines. I was frightened again, down to my core, and it seemed only my own men could induce that kind of deep shaking terror that ran from the bottoms of my wet boots all the way up to the top of my head. What we had to do was move. Timing was everything if I was somehow to avoid Jurgens or anyone else from easing through the density of darkness to pay me back for whatever I was found to be at fault for.
“Back down where to secure what flank?” I asked, suddenly giving full import to what the gunny had said. “We can’t go back down there,” I continued when he didn’t respond, my voice beginning to rise. “They’re waiting for us back down there, and what of our wounded and the dead?”
“Those are the orders,” the Gunny replied, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.
“Where’s Tank?” I asked, noting that the Gunny’s radioman wasn’t present.
“He got hit,” the Gunny said, squatting down. “We’ve got nineteen injured, twenty-two dead and the twenty-four still left up on 975.”
I motioned for Fusner for the radio, not wanting to ask the Gunny if Tank was among the wounded or the dead. I knew there would be no move to save me, night or otherwise. Once again, we could not go forward and we could not go back, not and have any chance of survival at all. My own situation with the men was suddenly in a distant second place. If we marched through the night back down the river then we were dead men walking or dead men upon arrival back near the old airfield.
I had Fusner switch the Prick 25 to the command net and contacted battalion. It took almost ten minutes for the six-actual to come on the line. I hadn’t spoken to the colonel in many days as his preference for dealing with the Gunny personally was self-evident.
“Sir, we’re not moving north or south from our current position,” I reported; we’ve got sixty-five casualties, forty-six being KIA, and need resupply and medivac in force at dawn before we can do anything.”
I let go of the transmit button, wondering if sixty-five casualties in such a short period of time was a lot of where we were in the war.
“What are the enemy numbers?” the colonel asked back, without any delay.
I thought for a moment, looking at the Gunny, who could only shake his head and shrug. “A hundred and twenty-one KIA,” I said, approximating the civilian farmers the NVA had sent against the Ontos. A brief moment of silence ensued while I wondered whether they’d buy the numbers as I’d sent them.
“My orders were pretty clear, Junior, in spite of those numbers,” the colonel replied briskly. “Leave your casualties with a rear element and get back down the valley, as ordered. I’ll send choppers at dawn. You can leave the Army gear with the holding force.”
I held the handset out away from my body like I was gripping the head of a poisonous snake. I looked over at the Gunny. The ‘Army gear’ was the Ontos, the only piece of equipment we could not afford to give up. If a hold at all cost defense was coupled with Zippo’s use of the Starlight Scope, the Ontos and artillery the colonel’s order almost sounded reasonable.
“I’ll stay with the wounded and then come down the river once the choppers are gone at dawn,” the Gunny said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He cupped one hand over it to guard it against the rain. Then he handed his special lighter to me.
“Hang onto that for luck until I make it back down.”
I clutched the lighter. I knew he wasn’t giving it to me for luck. There was no way a small security element could guard the dead and wounded. The Gunny didn’t think he’d be coming back. The wounded were bad off, unable to remain silent from the phosphorus burns. I knew I was far from them but their sounds still came through the soggy air and rain, accompanied by the ever-present sound of the river’s rushing waters. It was like their sounds of agony were being deliberately delivered by the river. The smallest units of NVA in the area would make short work out of any unreinforced force, particularly one not covered with supporting fires. There was no air support at night. That meant artillery fire, no matter how many casualties we’d taken earlier. And I was the only artillery our company had, and the only one able to handle the Starlight Scope to take advantage of the Ontos.
“Remember what we did at the cliff face before?” I asked, pushing the lighter back at him. “You’re not staying out here alone with anyone. We’re moving to the eastern wall through this mess and digging in. I can carpet the bottom of the valley along here with fire from both Rip Cord and Cunningham. I’ll send cascades of 175 rounds down the valley to put a cork in that. All night long.
Cowboy will be back in the morning. We can decide what to do when the day comes.
“What about battalion?” the Gunny asked. “And last time digging into the cliff only served us for a very short time.”
“Fuck battalion, and we’ve only got to worry about a very short time,” I replied, accepting the cigarette and taking a deep inhalation before exhaling to talk on the radio again.
“Colonel, we’re not moving,” I said into the microphone, making the words distinct and saying them slowly. “We’re digging in and waiting for resupply and medivac choppers in the morning, or whenever they arrive.”
I waited, as seconds marched by, finally motioning for Fusner to switch on the Prick 25’s small external speaker.
“You’ll obey orders Junior or I’ll have your ass relieved on the spot,” the colonel shouted, his bellicose tone converted to a mechanical whine by the inadequate speaker.
“Well, yes sir,” I shouted back into the handset, unable to keep from smiling coldly when I said the words.
“So, you will proceed south as ordered?” the colonel came back, his voice returning to a more normal level.
“No, sir. I’m ready to stand relieved, sir.”
“Put the Gunny on,” the colonel said, after a short pause, his voice beginning to rise again.
“Can’t do it, sir, he’s wounded,” I replied, watching the Gunny begin to slowly shake his head in disgust. “If you can’t fly the resupply and medivac then I’ll call up Army air,” I added.
I wasn’t at all certain but I knew the Army would come and battalion would hate the idea.
“Stand by on this frequency for further orders, and I don’t believe one word of what you’ve said,” the colonel ordered as if none of what had been said had been said at all.
“God damn it but we’re fucked,” the Gunny said, snapping his cigarette butt out into the rain. “Every time I start thinking about making it back home the whole idea is snatched right back like Lucy and the football in Peanuts. I’m not wounded and what if they don’t send anybody? What then? We can’t stay alive without support from the battalion.”
“We’ve got water, food, and ammo,” I replied, calmly. “We could use more 106 flechette rounds for the Ontos, but I don’t really think the enemy’s going to come at us in the night. We’ll point the Ontos down the river. That’s the only place we’ll likely see trouble from. Zippo can sit up with the Starlight Scope and the crew. I’ll begin night defensive fires when it’s full dark. I’m worried about what Jurgens and his men might do because of the casualties.” I said the last words with some reticence and trepidation. After twenty days, and part of one night, I was still unsure of how the dynamics of relationships in the company worked and who was really loyal to whom.
“Let’s worry about the big stuff,” the Gunny replied, “we’ve got to get through that mess of jungle and reach the base of the cliff to establish any decent fields of fire. We could just stay along the river.”
I looked at the Gunny, standing to his full height, facing the river as full dark was coming upon us. “Might work, except for snipers at daybreak,” I said, “they’ll be moving along the upper ridge and the river’s too close to the other cliff face. I don’t want any more friendly casualties from the artillery I’m calling tonight.”
I had no idea how long we might be required to hold the position we were stuck in. It could be days, depending on the weather and what else was going on in the combat area. The jungle growth would not be able to be cleared completely, thereby providing concealment, if not effective cover, from sniper fire. The narrow pass by the east side of the river assured that the NVA would not be able to bring a fifty caliber and spray up and down our line, and if they stayed south with one then either the two batteries or the 175s would do them in with punishing high explosive or variable time fire.
“What’s the name of this plan?” Zippo asked, from the edge of the darkness.
I knew he was asking because of superstition. I hadn’t named the last plan and a lot of Marines had paid a big price, the way some saw it.
“Snoopy and the Red Baron,” I replied, with a small smile, thinking about the Peanuts comic strip the Gunny had mentioned. ‘We’re going to shoot every Red Baron we see until we’re relieved.”
I knew I wasn’t being relieved, and the company wasn’t either. There was no one to relieve me, and no unit would be sold on taking the kind of losses we were suffering to relieve the company. I was learning that real combat didn’t work that way. I also knew that fate was casting me back into the south of the A Shau Valley, the very worst combat charnel house I’d ever read or heard of. I could not escape it, and no matter how I twisted and turned I knew our company wasn’t going to the DMZ or getting to take a break at any of the firebases so tantalizingly close along the western highlands beyond our position. The 9th Marines might come down the valley but they would not come far, even with our own combined company unit waiting with some sort of semi-safe perimeter near the end of the highway.
I got to my feet, Zippo dragging my pack along, as we moved to the edge of the jungle outgrowth. It was less dense than I’d thought but still took real work to move through, the wet branches and bamboo pushing back as if to let us know just how unwelcome we were. The Gunny hadn’t seemed worried about what Jurgens and his men might do. I knew I would not be sleeping through the night, and I suddenly worried about the fact that I was still covered with mud from my slide down the mountain, and my Colt was filthy too. I had to break it down as soon as I could. I had fifteen rounds, and they were as filthy as the automatic.
We reached the lower edge of the cleft at the bottom of the cliff wall. It was similar to the one we’d taken some quarter in days ago when we were further down south.
With some digging with E-Tools, a decent area could be dug out of the base, providing cover from the never-ending rain, the ever-present animal predators and waiting along the bottom confines of any jungle terrain. I pushed into the cleft Nguyen cleared out, barely able to see anything. I lit a chunk of Composition B for light, more than to heat some water. I was five feet under the edge of the cliff and Zippo and Nguyen had piled the dirt and plant matter to form a low berm out from the front lip. But I had run out of time. I spread out my map and began designing the rippling night defensive fires I’d planned in my head earlier, but not put to actual numbers because I hadn’t known where we’d end up.
I called for Fusner to raise the artillery net and made the necessary contacts before I boiled a canteen holder full of water, not to make coffee out of, but to pour over the parts of Tex’s .45, bringing the dull blue of its surfaces back to bright cleanliness for potential use. I threw all my ammo in the cover and sloshed the rounds around. I hoped the factory loads wouldn’t leak, but I really didn’t have much choice. If a round failed to fire I would have to manually eject very quickly. Fortunately, the Colt did that seemingly small operation neatly, as well. Holding the loaded .45 gave me my first feeling of real security since I could recall.
“Snoopy and the Red Baron,” I said out toward the night jungle. I was ready. Except for one more duty, I could not avoid. I had to move from my little haven of security and visit every wounded Marine, and then view the dead. They were my Marines, living and dead, and my own feelings of guilt or the injustice of it all was meaningless to them.
“Snoopy and the Red Baron,” I whispered into the uncaring and unforgiving jungle in front of me before I slowly moved into its clutching grasp.
James,
Good morning from a hospital bed in Washington DC. I am happy to be here and reading these pages. Had a little issue at work the other day and was admitted due to tightness in the chest and well, all the things associated with a panic attack. I have never ever had one and people have always told me I was to be admired for being able to handle so many stressful things at once.
That is not why I write this. I write this because well I am in awe of the human spirit and brain. Stress, I have no stress, I read what you write and I feel like I am right there with you. I think to myself 17 years old 121 pounds and I am running around Fort Polk in November and December singing I want to go to Vietnam I want to kill Charlie Cong!! Drill Sargent Lopez was there three times the man ride me mercifully all the time. Now I know why. My mos in the army was 82c20. I was once downrange at Fort Carson and called in the 8” gunfire. Looking through the box scope I watched a direct hit on an older piece of something. I remember watching it mash down jump up like spring loaded and then boom it was gone!! That visual coupled with the freight train sound of the round coming in is etched in my memory and has been since the spring of 75.
I thank God that I did not go there and have finally gotten over the shame I used to carry of saying I am a Vietnam era Vet. My Shane was because I did not go but receive the benefits and recognition. So James thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing these books. My passion today is affordable housing for vets. We, my children and I are developing a 27acre community that will focus on homeless vets and or their family. Contact me privately and I will fill you in on the details. I can never do enough for vets because, well I am one!!!
The mixed ‘honor’ of being a Vietnam Veteran.
Predatory behavior volume can be written about that.
I am glad you are here and doing what you are doing.
If you have somehow ended up in the A Shau then you would most probably still be in the A Shau to this day…so to speak.
Thanks for all the work you do for the vets. Panic attacks are nothing to take lightly.
It is usually your system telling you something is wrong but not always were!
You sound like a terrific guy so I hope that is not true. Take the pills!
Semper fi,
Jim
Mr. Strauss,
I am a friend of Luis Urroz, who is responsible for me reading the first 10 days, & the second. I really need the 3rd 10 days …soon…please. Thanks for the engaging & compelling read, I have really enjoyed them.
Bill Fee
Urroz. What a class act that guy was and no doubt still is. One squared away Marine Officer with a sense of humor.
We were too far away at Presley Obannon Hall to know one another back in the Basic School.
I am working away this night on the next book. I can only push so hard.
Not so funny today that that guy in PTSD counseling killed those three women.
The result of PTSD is seldom
violence taken out on other people. It’s usually much more likely to be solo suicidal.
Thanks for the compliment and thanks for mentioning
Urroz.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim: was happy to have celebrated my 50th university on February 14, 2018. February 14, 1968, I was drafted into the US ARMY in Kansas City, Ks. From there we took a little bus trip to Ft. Leonardwood, Mo. for the start of another life. Got off the bus and immediately gave up all civilian attire. along with a complete new shaved head look. The army did give us each a towel to cover our heads as well as a good used field jacket as we stood outside in line for some 14 hours. It snowed a dab, 26 inches as some of us lucky ones remember. Part of the famous de-moralization process I suppose. Then off to basic and combat engineer training along with the added pleasure of special demolitions training. Then off to the A Shau out of Camp Evans. Hope you forward the last TEN DAYS soon.
Thanks Steve, the next segment of the third ten days will be up tomorrow.
Thanks for anting more and standing by, and for telling us all about some of your own experiences.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt. thank you for the Second Ten Days. Riveting read! Your experiences are intense.
Appreciate your support, Andrew
Semper fi,
Jim
Good morning Jim.
Back then, as you “whispered into the uncaring and unforgiving jungle in front of you”, you did not have the opportunity to move at your own pace before you “slowly moved into its clutching grasp”.
Be assured that today, from all of us who care, you have that opportunity to take as much needed rest required before pressing forward. Not hard to see the situation getting more intense throughout the remaining days ahead.
God Bless you and all who were there with you as well as all who have joined you on this mission.
God Speed LT. We wait
Thanks, Jack.
It is an interesting and sometimes bumpy journey back.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
Seems like you have hit a pretty big wall with the memories being dredged up. Wish I could help you in some way, but have no idea how. Anyway, I thought this might help.
James Taylor – You’ve Got a Friend
When you’re down and troubled
And you need a helping hand
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running, oh yeah baby, to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you’ve got to do is call
And I’ll be there, ye, ye, ye
You’ve got a friend
If the sky above you
Should turn dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep you head together
And call my name out loud now
Soon you’ll hear me knocking at you door
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running, oh yes I will, to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall, ye
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there, ye, ye, yeah
Ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend
When people can be so cold
They’ll hurt you, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them, oh yeah, don’t you let ’em now
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again, oh baby, don’t you know
Winter, spring, summer or fall
Hey now, all you have to do is call
And I’ll be there, yes I will
You’ve got a friend
You’ve got a friend, yeah
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend
Oh, ye yeah, you’ve got a friend
One of my favorites, thanks, Robert.
Semper fi,
Jim
1971 James Taylor – You’ve Got a Friend
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2o7n27Dw9w
Looking forward to the next page. Thank you for expressing the depths of what you were going through, and are still going through. As in most traumatic events, the physical wounds are most easily healed, the mental/emotional wounds tend to linger. Stay strong, and keep writing…these chronicles are a great read!
Sorry so long in response.
Thank you for your comment.
It is a bumpy road for sure.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, are you waiting until after I die before writing the next chapter? What is going on with you?
Well, I am waiting for you to die, but not with smiles or enthusiasm. And the story flows, like the Bong Song, sometimes at flood and sometimes
at a trickle, although I never saw the trickle times. I apologize but I am here. No excuses.
Your friend
Semper fi,
Jim
Take your time Sir – can not imagine how difficult this is to write
… at your own pace. Be Well
Thank you, Dan.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you Lt. James for a good read. Hope you stay well and let the healing contenue. All of us that have seen combat carry some baggage mine is lighter than yours. Don
You are most welcome Don. Thanks for the support and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt. I cannot begin to comprehend the depths of emotion that hammered you when you wrote that 22 on your letter. Thank you so much for sharing that.
God bless and guide you
Glenn.
Thanks for thinking about me. Now to get oriented to finish the next segment…
Semper fi,
Jim
The suspence to each new chapter keeps building each time. Know this had to be a tough one to write. I do feel you are being your own worst critic on your time there. Keep up the great work and hope it helps to give you more peace of mind.
Got the 2nd book and the wife is about done with it so I can read it LOL. Left a review as well. Think picked up a couple more readers last week.
I like that part about the wife. Thanks for that and more.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT , We shot a few fire missions that had bad dope figured up by our FDC. I was on the logarithms. Not sure if we hurt anyone either. That WP air burst killed the NVA too. Remember that!!
Cpl Blair W/Y 1/11 1970
Thanks David. I do think about that and it helps.
And the compliment too…
Semper fi,
Jim
“I could still see the Marine Corps symbols in the poor light. They were right there in front of my face, but I knew down to my core, to the depth of my soul that I was not a real Marine.”
I wonder if every Marine Corps officer has those thoughts at one time or another. I would think as a “Grunt” who experienced combat, one would never doubt if they were a “Real Marine”. I was an airwing marine who was never down in the trenches with my ground pounding compatriots and my cover was off to those guys who (in my mind) were the “Real Marines”
Maybe there is nothing more powerful in the forming of a leader of men then self-doubt.
Self-doubt made me try harder.
Made me want to survive because I might someday be that real Marine I had made up in my mind.
That transfers over in civilian life to being a ‘real man’ or woman.
I have endeavored to be that although it is as challenging here in the real world as it was in that horrid world.
Thanks for the depth of your comment and your support in making it.
Semper fi,
Jim
A badly broken, poorly set leg left me unable to pass the physical in 1970. I lucked into a career in broadcasting and news and I participated in a project in the late 80’s recording Vietnam Veterans and their stories. Sadly, the tapes were lost in a fire, but their combat stories stayed with me. I just wanted to tell you, Sir, that your account of your time in Vietnam is the single most compelling account I have ever encountered. You’re laying your soul bare one chapter at a time and you have my undying admiration for being willing to do so. God bless you Lieutenant Strauss and all who served. And, Junior, I’m looking forward to the next chapter.
Thanks ever so much Joren. Means a lot to me to read your words…and try to live up to them.
Semper fi,
Jim
Always excited to see a new illustration accompanying a new segment of your part in history.Not many things take precedent before a new installment is read and processed.Till next time,regards——
Thanks Mark,
Semper fi,
Jim
A powerful chapter, so reveling, strong emotions, scary. Don’t know what else to say.
You said it.
Thanks, JT
Semper fi,
Jim
I have enjoyed your writing. It forces me to remember my US Army service. I was scheduled for an OCS Armor class to begin in November 1967 at Ft Knox. A clerical error sent me on another path and I ended up at the USARV Hqs in Long Binh, RVN instead.
Looking back with the knowledge I have gained from history I probably would have been a very poor 22 year-old combat leader.
May the Lord comfort you and those who served with you.
Thanks Ron, but I never felt like a very good combat leader and I still have my doubts.
Sort of like being the pilot of an airliner about to crash. There is one really important life to save
and it does not belong to any of the passengers or other crew!
Thanks for the neat comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was assigned to the 1st Inf div & was pulled out to USARV CAS/MEDEVAC July 67 –July 68 !! I guess it was because of my Ft Worth address as the colonel had that address also !! Worked w/MACV also !! Lucky I was !!
Yes, the Colonel saved your life, or at least your psychology.
How such things made all the difference over there.
If you knew the right person or almost anybody, then you stayed in the rear with the gear,
never having to comprehend or deal with what was going on only a few kilometers away…
where the unlucky and walking dead wandered the mountains and valleys…
Semper fi,
Jim
And your name is Tex. Special to me.
Still managed to get hit 4 times !! During TET in the ammonia dump ! Ambushes on runs to Saigon & the morgue almost daily !! Price of metall on my eye off a chopper or bullet !! Nothing serious but not fun !! I remember the segment w/Tex !! I was also called Cowboy
How strangely bizarre that is. Thanks for coming in on this and adding even more mystery.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well….that moment in time finally arrived….You, the lowly, insignificant boot “brown bar” Newby Lt….has finally decided that enough was enough….You have taken and given everything you have to give…and despite it all, you are still there…and now “Battalion” is trying to deal with you personally…even if it’s just to give more crazy, un believable ‘orders’….and you have defied them…..””what are they going to do?…Shave my head and send me to Nam?””…fuk em…You are already there…and the only thing you hope to do is ‘be there’ for ‘one more’ tomorrow morning morning and the next….with as many of your Marines as possible…You are learning LT…..day by day, minute by minute.. Semper Fi….
Yes, Larry, as you will recall, the learning curve was not steep. It was straight up. And any deviation was to fail to be there for resupply in anything but a body bag.
Thanks for the in depth comment you have become so known for (at least to me). Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for another riveting, take you there read LT. I did 24 years, but in another branch and post Vietnam era. I truly appreciate your insight on how it was. I look forward to the rest of the “30 Days”, and your story on recovery/healing at Pendleton & beyond (I think you’ve said you are going to tell that story too).
Thank you, Jim,
I really appreciate everyone’s support.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve just started reading TDHS The Second Ten Days. It is really hard to stop reading but that’s OK I can rest tomorrow.
I know I’ve read it before online but, reading the book is much better.
Words can barely describe my appreciation of your service to our nation and your gut-wrenching sacrifice in relating those experiences.
Thanks Mike. The service thing was a bit mixed. Surviving for my nation might be a better description!
Glad you like the writing and the way I’ve gone about putting it all down.
Semper fi,
Jim
With all due respects to your personal feelings one third of all the deaths in Nam were caused by friendly fire. In 1971 outside of Camp Evans I personally retrieved what was left of two platoons from the 101st airborne who had set up a ndp outside of the camp ,just klicks away.It wasn’t pretty but it happens in war.You did what you thought was right, you tried. It wasn’t intentionl it was your job. Please try to let it go. We who were there understand. God blesses, he also forgives.
Once again, thank-you for sharing your experience.
As you endeavor to complete the task of finishing the last ten days, know that many are thinking of you and all that you and your brothers have sacrificed for others.
Thanks Glenn, the support of you guys means everything…
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve really enjoyed reading all of this work. When I was ten, I thought I’d have to go someday, but, as I’m about five years younger than “Fusner,” I didn’t have to. Like you, my father said very little but the few bits about jungle fighting in New Guinea and the Philippines sounded horrific. And similar. And, even in his seventies, he sometimes killed people in nightmares.
Thanks Christopher. I am sorry about your Dad but I sure do understand the combat return kind of thing.
Thanks for writing what you wrote on here. Not easy to put some things into print sometimes…
Semper fi,
Jim
I also had to disobey a direct order from my company xo. It wasn’t face to face so I didn’t consider it direct. When he tried to relieve me on the spot I wouldn’t let him speak to anyone else. Ten minutes I have the battalion commander on the phone. Told him to save his words till morning when I would fix the problem and if he wanted to talk about it I could pick him up at our heliport at 7:30 A M. He showed up at 7:30 with the lieutenant and sargeant major. When the dust settled the battalion commander thanked me and never heard from the xo again. He got re- assigned.
Wow, you got lucky with that one. It’s one thing to know you aren’t likely to live anyway, when going directly against higher officers in the Corps, and
quite another when you are facing rather obvious court martial or worse…nice work.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was at the forward Battalion TOC in Phu Loc (aprox. 20 months in country) when a Major (whose job I was doing) told be to order troops to move at night. After a little conversation he told me I was relieved from duty. Whistle in the land line to Phu Bia – 30 minutes later there was a helicopter hovering over the heliport (this was way after 0 dark). Call from Phu Bia he left and I stayed. Win for the Boonie Rats lose for REMF who go assigned to a field position.
Sometimes there was luck to be considered Bob, in fact, almost all the time under such extreme duress.
thanks for writing about your own life on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey LT, I’m old and forgetful…could you use the words “east, west, north and south” when talking about making crossings of the river? There have been so many crossings (or at least it seems to me, perhaps I’m more confused than I thought?) that I forget where you are. I need to say I have been glued to the computer reading as much as possible when I am able. I do look fwd to reading the rest of the trilogy and other books of yours. Thank you for all you do for the invisible faces of war. Far East 1959-63, SEMPER FI!
It should be simple but I don’t always get everything right. The country of Vietnam runs north and south, as does Laos to the west of it.
The ocean is to the east beyond intervening mountain ranges. Upon occasion I have gotten confused in my own mind and given the wrong direction (east and west being the
culprits here). Sorry.
Semper fi, and thanks a lot for liking the work…
Jim
Just freaking amazing! Ina shitty war. But then they all are . Still hold with my original theory. Your Bn CO WAS AN IDIOT!
There have been times when that thought was Top of Mind.
Thanks for your support,
Semper fi,
Jim
What a difficult episode for you to remember and relive. For the first time I could not detect any optimism in your actions or mindset. What I see in you is someone who wants to give up, but, there is no quit in you. For that I am thankful that you and your company were so … I know there is nothing I could say that could convey what I wish I could say. Thank you for being on that wall protecting me and mine. You deserve so much more than your country ever gave you back.
Thanks Rob for the concern and the compliment and the care.
That all means a whole lot to me and helps me continue.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you sir. Another great read and I hope you are able to finish. It cant be easy.
Three paragraphs before your letter home “It still had the long filter still on it.” Drop the 2nd still?
Thanks Phil, for the compliment and the editorial help.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have been reading your chapters since the fall of 2016 and feel I should be applauding your efforts after every installment. Your latest chapter is simply stunning — and no doubt must have been exceptionally difficult for you to share. But thanks for sharing, and please try to press on as best you can. I’m old to remember the angst in the U.S the war created, but was young enough back then that I didn’t have to worry about being drafted. As I’ve said throughout my adult life — it was a war we should have never been in. What a waste of more than 58,000 lives. Thank you for your service, thank you for your writing and may God bless you.
These wars that we should not be in, as evidenced by Vietnam. Why are we in them when it is pretty evident that they are a waste of everything?
You decide. I understand but this is the kind of stuff you have to look at and figure out for yourself.
Semper fi,
Jim
“With some digging with E-Tools, a decent area could be dug out of the base, providing cover from the never-ending rain, the ever-present animal predators, and waiting along the bottom confines of any jungle terrain.”
This is little confusing to me. Missing some words or need to move “and” to right after “rain,” and remove the comma after “predators” ?
Sad to lose 22 men but the result could have been worse if the artillery fire did not take place. Some decision on what is the right thing to is tough and you can never stop second guessing yourself but you have to make the best decision at the time and learn to live with it.
Yes, time is a healing element but does not heal all, and we our own worst enemy, or best friend,
when it comes to remembering shit so we don’t repeat the same mistake…although it was unlikely I was ever going into that kind of
combat cauldron willingly again…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn, can’t you catch even a small break!
Thanks for this installment. Will you ever put this into one book or just the three?
Thanks, Jerry,
It would be too long to be in One Volume in print.
We may publish a One Volume digital version after completion of Third Ten Days.
Semper fi,
Jim
Afternoon James, UPS just arrived, My box of books has arrived, 5 of the second installment, One for Me, 3 for fellow vets, and 1 for the VA library.
Nothing but compliments from those who read and understand, Bow just the wait in the 3rd book…..
Drive On!….. Drive On!
Semper Fi/This We Defend Bob
As always,
Thank you, Robert, for your continued support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Mr. Strauss: This segment really brought home how difficult your memories of that time must be. Blessings to you, Sir.
Thank you, EJ.
It may become even tougher as we move toward the end.
semper fi,
Jim
While I think this is the most painful episode I have read, it is also the best. I will never know what it is like to go through the hell you men went through. The thought of leading men in combat….just incomprehensible to me.
Thanks e. Means a lot to hear from non-combatants reading the material too. I wonder how the general public would find the work
if it were ever to reach them. Of course, getting that kind of exposure is limited to a very very few and I’m not likely to be one of them,
no matter what the writing.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have my teenage sons read your story and I read them many of the comments. I don’t like the war video games they and all their friends play. I want them to know that this is what war really is.
Interesting response. I had never considered the screwy macho violence of those games, where killing is always done to the evil and in outraged righteousness…of
which there is absolutely none in real combat. I wonder how the boys might react.
Thanks a lot.
Semper fi,
Jim
I worked for years with a guy that had been an Army Corpsman. Back in eighties he was telling me how his two teenage boys loved the Rambo movies. They had their Rambo knives and built booby traps in the woods, until their mom fell in one and John put the kibosh to that. One day, one of them had cut himself pretty bad and told John he needed to go to the doctor. John said, “Well, just get the fishing line out of your Rambo knife and sew it up”
The kid said, “But Dad, this really hurts!”
John said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
John said, “You know Steve, I think I finally got through to him….that shit really hurts!”
Interesting story. Physical pain is nothing to sneer at when it comes in massive doses and at critical times
when something else has to be accomplished to survive.
The whole Rambo narrative is a tough one to swallow and I was pretty tough on the author when I met him.
But it is his only work of public recognition and merit so what is he supposed to do?
Semper fi,
Jim
In your letter home in the second line ” I drink water from resupply containers or that frequently flows down off my”, should it be “or that that”?
Thanks, Michael.
Noted and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow!I don’t know how you can even concentrate on what to do and when to do it under that kind of stress. Maybe Dad saved my life by not signing the papers when I was 17. I’d never have made it through that s**t. Just reading it has my guts balled up.i know dad carried everything from the Canal to Peleliu his whole life but it did seem to ease up in his later life. I admire your grit and you are a helluva good writer but I may take up smoking again while reading these.
Thanks for the multiple compliments written into your comment Laddie. I have no idea how I made it through or function for some of that time.
God was there somewhere but I’m not sure where or when, although I sure think of it a lot more now than I did then.
Semper fi,
Jim
My queezy stomach premonition was justified in waiting out the publication of this installment. The prolonged difficulty you had to endure putting this horrific memory back into the light of day is fully understood. No amount of passing time or “shit happens in war” explanations will erase the “talons in the heart” feeling of guilt and remorse over this loss of life. We, all of us doggedly following you through this quagmire of pain, know that you are not writing any of this to curry sympathy or even understanding. We know you are writing it because you must.
Because I must. Exactly John. And now, additionally, for those who were in similar circumstance and thought they were in it alone.
Thanks for you depth of understanding and your capability in writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim! riveting as always. Hard for the casual reader to understand the agony a leader goes through of losing groups of men and to be told by the rear to keep going when you know their boots have never had the pleasure to trod the Aw Shit. One quick one, your direction of being west of Laos. Semper Fi Brother.
Thank you, Al
Knowing that Laos is west of Vietnam I just fixated on the wrong direction.
Corrected
You mention 12th Marines twice. That’s an artillery Battalion. I don’t think they would be used as a grunt unit. Maybe 9th Marines or some other grunt unit but not 12th.
Funny how memory works Al. Yes, I checked the Internet and you are correct in every regard.
Why do I remember the 12th Marines when it could not have been them.
I don’t know. I hope I am not as inaccurate on other parts.
I don’t feel right slipping into who it might really have been
because that seems weird too…
Thanks for the comment and the correction…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, didn’t you train on artillery in officer training? If so, would it not have been with the 12th Marine battalion?
Yes, correct. Bringing many of these details up is a challenge at times
For your consideration, but not intended as specific correction:(Source acknowledgement Real Clear Defense) This time period is a close match for the actions described. “In early 1969, the 1st battalion, as part of the larger 9th Marine Regiment, launched Operation Dewey Canyon, the last major Marine Corps operation in Vietnam. During this time the Marines swept through the NVA controlled A Shau valley and other areas near the DMZ. In a heroic action on February 22, 1968, then-Lt. Wesley Fox earned the Medal of Honor. The Marines suffered over 1,000 casualties during the operation. The entire regiment was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation for their extraordinary heroism during Operation Dewey Canyon.”
Respectfully submitted, John
Thanks John for the history lesson. You are right about Dewey Canyon, a great failure of a Marine campaign that was treated as a success.
There was no way any regiment was going to handle the totality of emplacements, tunnels and trained and experienced thousands of NVA inhabiting the area.
Supporting fires could not reach much of the southern confines where they were congregated. I don’t know what happened on Dewey, as I was not there for that.
But I know what happened to us and every other allied unit that ran right into he bloody meat grinder the A Shau became.
Thank you for being what and who you are,
Semper fi,
Jim
The A Shau Valley is EAST of the Laotian border, not WEST.
Look at a globe. Look north from the A Shau, and follow that line up to the North Pole.
Now look left. Laos is between the U.S. across the ocean and the A Shau, which runs north and south.
You will be looking West from the A Shau, across the long country of Laos, which also runs north and south. Laos is West of where the A Shau runs north and south. All approximately, of course.
Semper fi,
Jim
What a time in a man life not knowing if he is going to live or die. One of the things that got me through was 23rd Psalm, as I walk point I would say to myself over and over as much as I could remember it. Thanks for letting it all hang out. Semper Fi.
thanks for the support Walter and the compliment in giving it…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, thank you for allowing others to see the pain of surviving combat and the weight of the guilt for our actions, I was lucky that none of my guys died by my hands during my tour in FDC or FAC duties, I feel for you brother, l know the weight of having to do what we do is so overwhelming sometimes and the effects will always be with you. I still think of walking a pattern thru one off my ambush teams that were out of position or the short or long rounds that just happened, shit just happens , we just got to go on, thanks again LT.
Yes, we do just go on Felix, those of us who can, those of us still here to do so.
In the telling is the price of ‘just going on’ I believe, a price that is never really understood by
those who were not so exposed.
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
Another gripping chapter.
Possible correction – “The A Shau wasn’t on the map but I knew it was located just a bit west of the Laos border…”. Isn’t it a little east of the Laos Border?
The A Shau is, indeed, east of the Laos border. So hard to get it all right now without copious research,
which I should get better at….thanks for the help.
Semper fi,
Jim
East of the Laos border?
James,you about had me crying on this gut wrenching segment.With that much pressure and you still had your shit together,amazing . Still had a plan ,right or wrong . Semper Fi
Thank you, Roger
Semper fi,
Jim
I have never, ever, read the like. God Bless you, and all who wake up at o-dark, alert.
Thank you for your support, Bruce.
Appreciate your sharing with those who might like this story.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you good Captian. God Bless
Jim… Did you post an episode between the January 7, 2018 story and this January 22 episode? A whole bunch of shit seems to have happened (for example, the 22 KIA). Seems to be a story-telling gap.
No, did not post a segment between the two dates.
The action at end of Third Part should have set the stage for Twentieth Night.
Semper fi,
Jim
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1618.jpg
Here’s Snoopy on the side of an Air Force O-1 Bird dog FAC
Taken at An Loc airstrip Binh Long Province III Corps Apr 67
Use it if you wish.
Wow. That must have been hard to write. Some say that in the grand scheme of things everything is as it should be. Difficult to see from our perspective. You did your best with as much heart as you could bring. It is demonstrated in your thoughts and actions. That is all that can be asked of anyone. …and you far more than most. Be well.
FWIW the book “Flags of our Fathers” lays to rest any myth about those who raised the (second) flag at Iwo Jima.
Thanks a lot for the photo Dan. I cut and pasted and will send to Chuck to figure out how we use it.
Thanks for the concern and care in your comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Any decision is better than no decision! Mr Strauss.. I’ve been following you since day one ( in writing). Like Patton said to Bradley at Sicily … its time to think of how many casualties we’d have if we were still slugging it out in the mountains… in reference to his push to Messina . Any decision is better than no decision . I don’t see this as on you and you alone. I’m looking more toward who put you in this position.
Relativity. Yes, and more. How many will die if these few don’t die? That’s a whole lot to do with the very definition of war.
Thanks for the comment and what you said in the open here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim—-Were they using the 12th Marines as grunts at that time or just didn’t have any more Marine available?Don’t have to answer on here just wondering.
I don’t know Ray. I remember the 12th but I could have been wrong with memory. The guys on here say it had to be the 9th because the
12th was artillery. I’m old!
Semper fi,
Jim
“No, sir. I’m ready to stand relieved, sir.”
Bluff worked and the Colonel got bamboozled by junior!!
Outstanding !!
I really like the way junior can change his outlook once he lays out a artillery plan. Just a thought.
Thanks again for keeping us on the edge of our seats James
SEMPER Fi
He wasn’t bamboozled, although I do like that word. Like the rest of us he was simply in a position
where he had not control and I knew it. Thanks for being kind…
Semper fi,
Jim
The reality of your conflicts in writing the Twentieth Night is understood completely. Not many can convey reality with such an impact.
Semper fi
It is becoming more difficult to bring some of this to the front of mind awareness.
Thanks for your support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, I don’t look for any problem or mistakes in what you have said as I know what you mean and if there is something wrong I don’t even realize it as I am mesmerized by what you went through and what stayed with you afterward and I think is still with you!! I was our Como’s radio man, his choice as I was a 2533 radio code person. I got out of the Marine Corps when they were sending people over there from my company 2-3-3 com. I also had my cousin over there as a Marine heli gunner, shot down twice with burs both tomes, the last time very badly 89% . He had a lot of problems until about a year and a half ago when he took his own life. I do understand a little more now when I read your story in fact I have contacted his sister and have tried to get her to read about Vietnam.Thanks for your service and your writing!!
Sorry about your cousin Roger. Really. So neat to hear that my story may be of some help to anyone who’s suffered following this awful war.
Semper fi,
Jim
I am the mother of three young men. I have always been terrified at the thought of any of them having to go to war, as my Father, Father in law, and Uncles did. However if they did, and if they were killed, I would not blame the men they were fighting along side of, such as yourself. In the chaos of war anything can happen. I blame the governments that do the things they do to send our young men and women into dangerous places and situations. That is the truth of a loving mother’s heart.
thank you KT for commenting on here and for what you said. You are kind. And truthful.
The biggest problem is letting go of those around you and not accusing yourself. We have the strangest of
emotions about such things.
Semper fi, Mom…
Jim
Jim,
Please don’t worry about how fast the segments are coming. I am a patient man even though I read them as soon as they arrive. The emotional load is heavy, and you DO have a personal life to accomplish as well. i appreciate the fact you are making this available, no matter what the timetable.
Keep up the good work sir!
Tim
Of course I worry about the time. I must remain on top of it all or lose my way.
At least the way I see it now.
Thanks for the concern and for the expressions of care, not to mention the compliment in your content.
Semper fi,
Jim
West of the Laos boarder?
You caught it also. Corrected.
My mind was set on fact Laos is and always will be West of Vietnam.
Semper fi,
Jim
Gunny should check his timeline. I don’t think Lucy was pulling the football that early. But I am old and Peanuts is at the bottom of my memory. Great writing otherwise.
Lucy started pulling the football back in the forties, according to the Internet. In 1953 Lucy turns the event into a rather sadistic game, and on we go.
thanks for the comment,
Semper fi,
Jim
Great read again Jim…I can’t imagine what you felt over the loss of your men…but as the Gunny said, no one was better at calling in artillery than you…and you saved the majority of the two companies…and your mission was survival first and foremost…once again you put us right there with you…I still think you were an outstanding leader and I would follow you anywhere…forge ahead my friend
Thanks so much Mark.
I don’t think you can lose guys like that in combat without terrible feelings overcoming you eventually.
At the time it seemed like I could just handle it and move on, and I did,
until I woke up night after night in the hospital.
I needed most of the morphine in those early months not for physical
but for the mental agony.
Thanks for the encouragement and care…
Semper fi,
Jim
“What about battalion?” the Gunny asked. “And last time digging into the cliff only served us for a very short time.” the Gunny.
* missing word… “said” the Gunny
Noted and corrected. Thanks, Bob.
Semper fi
Jim
Now may, dang thumbs!
No problem, Bob…
Semper fi,
Jim
“I motioned for Fusner for the radio, not wanting to ask the Gunny if Tank as (WAS) among the wounded or the dead. I knew there would be no move to save me, night or otherwise.”
Semper Fidelis.
Thanks for the sharp eyes, Dennis.
Semper fi,
Jim
This was truly one of the most heart breaking chapters. The pain you were feeling from the losses must have been truly overwhelming to the nth degree. I can only imagine the mental scar you must still carry to this day. Semper Fi my brother in arms
Thanks Richard. I am okay. Yes, the memories are revived to a degree I would never have believed, plus
the accuracy and detail of them shock me as I write…
Thanks for pointing out how tough it can be…
Semper fi,
Jim
J S.,
Good read! I was an FO attached to A/3/39Inf 9th ID from late July to early October of 1968. We were in the Mekong delta south of Siagon. The delta being very flat, meant that there was very little elevation deviation between the firing battery and the target. If I remember correctly, elevation difference was called SITE.
My heart bleeds for you.
Yes, Jim, elevation is close enough. Line of site is the result of angle of site calculations. The elevation of the tube of the howitzer is site, not necessarily the elevator of the land wherein
the howitzer is placed or the target is located. Neat comment and conclusions….
Semper fi,
Jim
Wouldn’t the valley have been East of Laos instead of west?
You and so many other astute readers are correct.
My mind was focused on fact Laos is West of Vietnam and it was late at night,
as usual for writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
You are a good man. It would have been an honor to have served with you.
Thank you very much. Sometimes I am not so sure. We are all so flawed in so many ways.
Trying to hold it all together, redeem those things gone wrong and then get better…that’s living.
Semper fi,
Jim
Loving it Jim. You tell a real good past happening…….
Jim F
Thank you, Jim
Semper fi,
Jim
This puts your short post of a couple days ago in perspective.
This is bringing back things you have tried to bury in your mind for all these years. I have talked with many vets over the years and have heard stories from wars of ww2 to present. A common subject is that friendly fire happens, in every war.
In every case, someone has to live with the consequences for the rest of their time. I know I would have had a very hard time dealing with the loss of so many men.
I can’t say what is right or wrong with what happened. I don’t think anyone could. Telling your story has to help heal the wounds for you and all the others with similar history.
My uncle was part of the ww2 pacific war planning group. He help plan every invasion of the pacific war. He was at every invasion. Invading japan was to have 500k wounded and 500k dead in the first 30 days. Luckily that invasion wasn’t necessary.
I was the only person he ever told his story to. Not even his wife or daughter. It would have gone to his death if I hadn’t asked one day. What a loss that would have been. So many who served have not told their stories.
I am thankful to you for sharing yours. I hope you find the strength to continue telling your story.
I thank you for your service.
Thanks Gary, the motivation can be tough to keep focused on but I am hard at it to continue.
Thanks for the help, which your comment certainly is…
Semper fi,
Jim
I am captivated by this story. As a Huey Crew Chief operating in the Ashau and points north and east, I vividly recall the area. Laos is to the west of the valley and most of our firebases were to the east. Minor comments that don’t impact the story line. Good writing, please keep it up.
Thanks John. I much appreciate the compliment and also the fact that you were there and know the terrain.
I so longed to be up in the cooler air above and going back to anywhere! Thanks for helping out over there…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Loud.” Such an inadequate word. I will send you a pic of a T-72 with a hole in it. The muzzle of the Marine Corps M-1 that made that hole was about 20 meters from my crane. With out a doubt, that was the loudest noise I have ever heard. That’s a Chi-Com 51 on my knee.
When I read this great piece of work, my pulse quickens.
Some of the things you say bring things out of the dark that I thought were forever forgotten, Thankfully, they were not. At 72, almost 73, the past, all of it, is a valuable part of my life.
Thank you Brother. Looking forward to the part where you get home.
We don’t really forget this stuff or parts of it that you and others might have lived too.
We suppress it. Those survival skills to get through are totally unusable back home…
and thank God…
Semper fi,
Jim
FYI:
*With 22 dead is the word “survivors” the word you want to use here? I wanted to write letters home to all the survivors, but how could I write twenty-two letters and how many on top of that for the badly wounded.
*I think here you are referring to your quad map and called it artillery? I pulled out my artillery one to twenty-five thousand and oriented it easily because the direction of the valley extended almost exactly from the north down to the south.
*Did you mean to use “night” or “right” in the 2nd sentence: I motioned for Fusner for the radio, not wanting to ask the Gunny if Tank as among the wounded or the dead. I knew there would be no move to save me, night or otherwise.
*See “the Gunny”, last two words in sentence appear to be dangling like you were going to add something: “What about battalion?” the Gunny asked. “And last time digging into the cliff only served us for a very short time.” the Gunny.
Thanks for being part of the editing team. You guys are all I have.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for writing this. I can imagine the nightmares and emotional cost this has on you dredging up these buried memories.
it seems the only way to survive is to ride the fine edge of insanity.
That chapter took great courage LT. Thank you….
Thanks Al, means a lot to me to have you write that on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow
4th sentence of the paragraph about the Iwo Jima thing !! Mat should probably map !! What a mess y’all are in !! Thanks for all you do !! 2nd book ordered !!
Thanks for the editing help. You guys are all I have!
Semper fi,
Jim
excellent! I was thrilled to see the Snoopy picture and realize a new installment was here!
couple of edit suggestions: para 1 ‘above the clouds that that” delete one that.
para 1 after the letter home box, “it had a small mat’ (map)
para 19 after the letter home box,”Gunny if Tank (w)as among
Thanks to you and so many others the corrections are made.
Semper fi,
jim
Your telling a story that rips at every Vets heart And I don’t give a fuck if something is misspelled or an error in punctuation like these grammar Nazis do. They must have been REMF’s.
Thank you Daniel for your continued support.
Stay warm this week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well said
Thanks, as usual, Bob…
Semper fi,
Jim
I now see why this chapter was so hard for you to write. I hope getting through this has helped to heal any self doubt you may have kept harbored inside. I haven’t ever been in your shoes, thankfully, and I don’t pretend to know what I or anyone else can say to make it all go away, but I wish I did, for you and all who have been where you were. May others heal through your pain and may that ease your pain, knowing you have helped so many.
Thanks, Tom, and I found this comment after some searching.
Very nice, and very touching. Thanks for caring and for writing about it on here.
Times are better, although going back in my mind is both hard (the emotions) but also a bit curative.
I was unaware that I had not forgotten most of it.
That it all comes back in such detail with almost no reference has astounded me more than anyone here…
which means it has been inside all this time.
And probably influencing more of my life than I ever considered, before now.
Semper fi,
Jim
Those things that you live through in fear, you never forget as the subconscious has a way of reminding you of the danger you lived through.
Thank you for your support, Thomas.
Staying on top of these comments is sometimes a slow process.
Thanks also for your patience.
Semper fi,
Jim
Awesome as always. Minor note… “The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds that that poured” probably only one “that”?
Thanks,
Noted and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Was in Hué in Tet I know the frustration and heartbreak
Man, you were in the shit too, especially right after Tet there.
Thanks for writing in and liking the work…
Semper fi,
Jim
12th Marines? Artillery Regiment?
Caught it and fixed.
Heart wrenching, gut churning , action… I was so fortunate to only have seen the veterans return .altough I had to deal with many , I knew something horrible had effected them .. now I know..
Part of what I am doing is trying to give men and women who did not go an idea about why we came home so screwed up in many circumstances.
Thanks or illustrating that point and also for the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I am so touched by your writing. The use of the literary device of telling the story in two ways–one way, for you and another more gentle way in letters to your wife, the acuity of your memories, your eye for detail, facility with language, the heart-beat rhythms of your sentences, and use of evocative symbols, combine to not only effectively “tell” a story that needs to be told, but also to “show” a story that brings the reader right into the midst of the physical, emotional, moral, and political chaos of that time. For 20 years, I’d taught “All Quiet on the Western Front” to 11th grade English students in the San Francisco Bay Area. Their term project was to interview a Viet Nam vet from the Menlo Park or Palo Alto VAs. Most of the vets were reluctant at first, but some ended up volunteering to be interviewed again each year. Eventually, a few even felt comfortable enough to be transported to my classroom to speak with my students. They each mentioned how their lives had be positively affected by being interviewed by a 16-year old. And this sentiment was echoed by each student. It was an extraordinary project with extraordinary ramifications for the vets, my students, and for me. Thank you for your courage and your service then–and now, in writing about it. Best wishes for your well-being and your success–Joanne
Thank you, Joanne. I am unaccustomed to reading a review that is this professionally written,
and, I am equally taken aback by the high praise and compliment of your thoughts. Maybe your first sentence is the most penetrating.
Touched is an intimate word. That I have been able to effectively communicate the reality of such an unreal and unbelievable
experience, shared by so many (now I find that out, not before) has been so very revealing to discover.
I have been writing novels and other literary work for years but never approached the kind of in-depth response
I have received in reaction to these volumes on Vietnam.
I have personally answered almost every one of the over twelve thousand comments.
As here.
Thank you for taking the time and for writing such neat things about the work, and I, in such a public forum.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great writing and well worth the wait!
Wow.
Tough and hard chapter.
Keep em coming.
We are there with you digging in.
Thanks Walt, I count on you guys more than you might guess…
Semper fi,
Jim
Outstanding as always.from a old 0311. Semper fi.
Thanks a lot Daniel. The compliments from guys who were really out there are unbelievably satisfying…
Semper fi,
Jim
Holy crap, LT. Caught me off guard with this one. Gut churning words out of an abyss. I am going to look back and see if I missed something. Damned mess the Company is in and it just got worse, but I see in your comm with the Six, your recent days has put some piss in Battilions vinegar. We are now seeing a Company Commander, a combat veteran, doing what he can to avoid putting his Command in any more unnecessary danger. P. J.
Not many catch you off guard, you old detective grade scamp. Thanks for the observant compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I really had to stop reading. I didn’t want to spoil the anticipation of the book itself. It was cold turkey….
Can’t wait for the book
Thanks for the high compliment Lewis! Much appreciate and helps keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
James I have no idea how you remained sane and you still have ten days to go, I get anxiety just reading what you men went through. What method did you use to get through the unknown and terrifying times.
I was not sane. Read between the lines. I was looney as all hell. Frightened to death and lost down the rabbit hole.
Leeches as friends. Come on! Smoking but not smoking. Eating Ham and Mothers and liking them…
Semper fi,
Jim
PS I am better now, I think…
Those methods by no means prove you were not sane they are adjustments to your situation. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how you handled the situation you were in. Look at how our colleges handle snowflakes because someone said something they didn’t agree with. Throw those pampered children into a mess like what you men went through and you would truly see insane.
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts, Frank.
Semper fi,
Jim
7th paragraph below the letter home: “That’s why your Junior.” …s/b you’re Junior.
Thank you, Ray.
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Now I can see why it takes so long to write a day, unbelievable what you have gone through so far, know nothing but bad is coming up too. As we get closer to TET my respect for you and your Marines continues to grow. As I said you guys saved our butts more than once. Be safe.
Thanks Pete. It was our pleasure, or something like that! Appreciate the thanks and the support on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
I can feel the struggle you had to remember and write this chapter. Decisions we make in life have a ripple effect but none as immediate as when lives hang in the balance. You have our support LT.
Too true Bob. Tough one, but then they have kind of been getting that way.
Thanks for the support and understanding…
Semper fi,
Jim
WHOA is all I can say, You never catch a break. I was Navy Aircrew flew in and out of various bases on resupply and evacuation of wounded and deceased. I was there 1965- to Mid 67 ,then came back with an attack Squadron from 67-68. I’ve been following you though every chapter. I realize how hard reliving this experience id for you. Your and outstanding writer Thank You for sharing.
You are most welcome Bud.
Thanks for what you did for us out in the field while you were there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Sure looking forward to the third ten days. Good job!!
Thanks Dempsey, working away…
Semper fi,
Jim
One can easily understand your reluctance to address these following chapters! However, you do need to deal with them once and for all and be done with it.
Thanks J, for the understanding…and your continuing loyalty, as well…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great episode. One comment, 12th Marines is an artillery regiment. Were they sending them in on their own.
Yes, the guys on here have been telling me that it had to be the 9th but I remember it to this day as the 12th.
Out in the bush we did not always get it right.
Semper fi,
Jim
I see now why you had such a hard time writing this segment. I know you had to relive it to write it. Jim in the time you have been with the company you have saved over ten times more marines than what were killed that day. The Gunny and the men still believe in you and that says it all. Thank you once again for sharing your story I know it’s hard for you but it has done so much good for the vets who are reading it. I still think your thirty days should be mandatory reading for new marine officers. It could save many Marines!
How do they get the new officers to go if they read my work? that was the problem when I came home and they asked me where I wanted to be transferred.
I said to Quantico to TBS. They said there was no way I’d ever talk to a TBS class. I didn’t understand then, but I do now.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great reading. 1 st paragraph 5 th line from the bottom ” about the that that”. I always look forward reading your work. Great job.
I keep looking and can’t find.
First Paragraph of the segment?
Thanks Hayward
I think Hayward was referring to “The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds that that …”
The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds that that poured drizzling rain down into the heart of the valley where the company
Ow maybe you can find it?
We got it!
Thanks
This is what Hayward is pointing out.
“The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds (that that) poured drizzling rain down into the heart of the valley where the company, and what was left of Kilo, had gone down following the debacle of taking out the cliff top snipers.”
Thanks for all your efforts,
Dave
Thanks, David
We found it and corrected
Semper fi,
JIm
“The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds that that poured…..” is what I think Hayward is talking about, 5th or 6th sentence, 1st paragraph.
Thank you for sharing your story, it causes me to think about the vet’s I work with and appreciate them even more.
We finally caught it and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
The sun had fallen and above the clouds that that poured drizzling…
Thanks to you and others, so noted and corrected.
Appreciate you, Jim
Semper fi,
Jim
“The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds (that that) poured drizzling rain down into the heart of the valley”
Now I understand…
Corrected. Thank you
Bill
Semper fi,
Jim
1st paragraph 4th line up from the bottom. “…above the clouds that that poured drizzling rain…”
Another amazing chapter that really got me thinking about the war and that period.k
Thanks, Monty.
Corrected.
Semper fi
Jim
Jim, Welcome home, Dave.
The sun had fallen behind and above the clouds (that that) poured drizzling rain down into … => (that)
Always appreciated, Dave.
Corrected.
Semper fi
Jim
That was hard to read.
Thanks Walt, and you are accurate, as usual.
Semper fi,
Jim
Praing for you and knowing how painful and difficult it is for you to write these segments. Your purpose from God is so great and difficult but I know He will keep you strong. God loves you very much James. So many are praying for you as you write.
God Bless you,
Nancy
What’s to be said in reply to what you write, other than that you always make me smile…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another superbly written segment. Riveting. Much respect LT, sir.
Thanks Tony. Much appreciated…
Semper fi,
Jim
Crying as a combat Infantry LT is mandatory in my opinion.
It is not an emotion I ever expected to have, or rather the manifestation of such intense emotion.
Thanks for your support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, just wow !
thanks for the support embodied in your short comment…and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Dammit, Lt, you had to mention 12th Marines. I did a lot of time with D-2-12
Yes, I did mention the 12th, which is what I remember, although guys on here are telling me that it had to be the 9th.
Out in the bush we did not always get it right.
Semper fi,
Jim
TOUGH DEAL.
Thanks Harold for the support intended by your single word comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, Jim, As the night falls, Brother John’s selection to close out a bad day, just for You…..
“Secret Agent Man”
There’s a man who leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every move he makes
Another chance he takes
Odds are he won’t live to see tomorrow
Secret Agent Man
Secret Agent Man
They’ve given you a number and taken away your name
Beware of pretty faces that you find
A pretty face can hide an evil mind
Oh, be careful what you say
Or you’ll give yourself away
Odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow
Secret Agent Man
Secret Agent Man
They’ve given you a number and taken away your name
Swinging on the Riviera one day
And then laying in a Bombay alley next day
Oh, don’t you let the wrong words slip
While kissing persuasive lips
Odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow
Secret Agent Man
Secret Agent Man
They’ve given you a number and taken away your name
Yep, Seems like Your tour was caught totally in this song……….
“There’s a man who leads a life of danger”
“Oh, be careful what you say”
“They’ve given you a number and taken away your name”
“To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every move he makes
Another chance he takes
Odds are he won’t live to see tomorrow”
Yes, Read the Roll, Mark the Toll, and throw the dice, Drive on Muther Fuckr! What they gona do? Bend your dog tags and sent you to Nam……..Don’t Mean Nuthin!
I have read every word, I have seen it true, and Still, If I had to do it all again, and could chose my CO, I don’t think I could do any better than serve under Your command.
Semper Fi/This We Defend Bob.
Thanks for the song lyrics. Really!
Semper fi,
Jim
I take it as a compliment that it takes you time to digest my post to you, I know that this has meaning, Because it has meaning to my life also, God Bless, and I am glad you made it through hell to tell your tale.
Semper Fi/This We’ll Defend Bob.
Thanks Robert. It is indeed a grand compliment that you put your well thought out comments on here, and that helps make the effort worth it.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Hard to read, can only imagine how hard it was to write.
Yes, it has been an emotional adventure getting it all down. Thanks for the thought, and especially the concern expressed by your words.
Semper fi,
Jim
Strong man !
Thanks Beau, not sure what that single word really means, but I like it…
Semper fi,
Jim
It means this is a strong story !
I really enjoy your narratives.
I was with the Fourth Inf. Out of Pleiku.
1968 – 1969
Keep up the good work.
Beau Gregory
Thanks, Beau,
Semper fi,
Jim
James-Great writing as always. You were caught between a “rock and a hard place” with no obvious escape available. Hope to see the next episode soon.
One possible correction;
The A Shau wasn’t on the map but I knew it was located just a bit west of the Laos border and down from the DMZ. Shouldn’t this be “a bit east” of the Laos border? Maybe my geography is messed up.
Yes, you are correct and I am the one that got confused…
Semper fi,
Jim
Some truths are maybe too awful to have to remember, huh, LT? Here’s a little ditty in memory of your losses and the plan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtJ1Gnh9wPU
Thanks Howard, for the comment and the link!
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow just to be able to write this down must have been a real chore. Now if my hands stop shaking I will be OK. Thanks
Not sure what I posted wrong – OH well stuff happens
Did I say something critical. I can’t find it among all the comments. If I did then I apologize. I occasionally get things wrong in my writing, like the direction or maybe where a particular fire base was in supporting us or even the description of an airplane. I hope whatever reply I made did not offend you. I much enjoy the dialogue and your running commentary…
Semper fi, and thank you…
Jim
No concerns from here other wondering why my post showed as “pending review” guess I was too quick in posting. You are doing a great job – I can not verbalize many of my experiences much less put them down on paper – and I knew that you knew which direction led to Laos. Great job – No Slack from the 2/327 101st
Thank you Bob and I have idea why your post ended up in ‘pending review,’ since I don’t review any of them. I just answer and publish,
thanks for your comments…
Semper fi,
Jim
I posted on 22 January, it still shows as “Pending Review”,
I found it and responded Thomas!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Now it says”awaiting moderation”, lol
I will try to find that comment and get it out here…and thanks for letting me know…
Semper fi,
Jim