My attention was drawn by AK-47s firing. I could hear the fire reverberating back from far up the valley even as I took cover and prepared to move out. My full attention, however, was immediately focused back to right where I was, when the Russian-built fifty caliber opened up from across the river. A long string of rounds started impacting and stitching itself across the face of the cliff, just above where the cliff wall slanted back down into the ground. The bullets caused no damage but their intent was readily apparent, like the drums beating through the night before. The bullets had missed us by only a few feet but their impacts felt personal. The mortar section crew, my scout team, and I were all pressed down into the dirt below the swell of the jungle berm. I looked up when I heard movement. It was Jurgens running back to join us. He dived headlong into the very middle of our clustered group.
50 Cal
“What the hell are you idiots thinking?” he yelled. “Come on, up and out of here, but stay flat. Right now!”
The big sergeant went to his hands and knees, crawling back the way he’d come, staying so low that he looked like a giant gecko or salamander shuffling along the ground.
I was shocked by the man’s return, and then by what he had to say. The fifty was sufficient motivation to get all of us moving, although the NVA manning it hadn’t adjusted fire close enough to shoot into the base of the berm yet. The bullets hitting the cliff wall didn’t sound like bullet impacts at all, but more like a series of small continuous explosions. Since the wall was slanted up and outward, and the rounds were impacting above, they had no effect, other than to terrorize everyone moving under them, of which I was definitely one.
It was slow going. Jurgens had stripped himself down for his return to us, like the mortar section Marines, but I, and the rest of my scout team, were laden with full packs, weapons and whatever else we had to drag along in order to exist until the next resupply.
We’d moved about a hundred meters before struggling in behind a large collection of fallen boulders. Fourteen of us crushed together for a moment’s respite from the difficulty of the crawl, and the fifty caliber firing behind us. We didn’t have much time to rest before getting ready to crawl further. I checked out the rise, where I calculated the enemy had set up the heavy machine gun, by sticking my head up once, very briefly. I drew immediate fire from the big gun, and also from smaller weapons surrounding it. A rocket hit the outside surface of one of the boulders, showering us with debris, but causing no injuries other than diminishing everyone’s hearing. My ears felt like I’d just surfaced after diving deep into a pool of water. I fought the urge to try clearing them with my fingers. Everyone was breathing hard. It was physically taxing to crawl so close to the earth, and make any time while moving low along the path. The angle between the position of the gun and our own was growing, but we didn’t know if it would be fast enough to save us once the NVA started lowering the fire to shoot through the ground and undergrowth.
I pushed myself through the mass of men to reach Jurgens.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him, straight out.
“The Gunny sent me back to make sure my Marines got the hell out of there in a hurry,” he said, not looking at me.
Our distaste for one another ran deep. I was not about to forget or forgive his admission that his platoon had taken out a preceding officer, and had intended to do the same to me. And I knew it fit perfectly well that the sergeant had somehow managed to ingratiate himself with the captain. I had no time to express any of my feelings, however, not that I would have without following up using immediate and violent action at another time and in another place.
“I heard some firing from up the valley,” I asked the man, pointedly.
“The Gunny wanted to know if the point was far enough up to call in some artillery,” Jurgens said, not directly answering my question.
I knew the Gunny had sent Jurgens back to call in some artillery. Either the NVA had had time to organize a full-fledged defensive force or they were using selective sniping to stop the company until they could get that organized.
“What about the support Captain Carter and Kilo are supposed to be providing from up on the ridge?” I asked, knowing already there was no support, or we’d have heard it coming down from above.
“I don’t know anything about that, Junior”, he replied, as I expected he would.
I was growing almost as uncomfortable with Jurgens as I was with the occasional bursts from the fifty. The company was being fired on from the front and the rear at the same time, with the near unfordable river to one flank and an unclimbable cliff on the other. And this was going on in daylight hours. We weren’t moving, we were being maneuvered, and where we were being maneuvered to wasn’t somewhere the company was going to want to be. If Cunningham could fire on locations around the old Landing Zone that was our objective, then everything would change, but I was getting the distinct impression that the enemy knew all about Cunningham and its limitations. They didn’t seem in the least bothered about channeling us toward a position that had been destroyed by their forces previously.
The big gun kept up its short bursts, never lowering the elevation to penetrate the berm or cause fatal damage. I crawled along on knees, belly and elbows for what seemed like a mile, just behind Jurgens, with Fusner and the others trailing along in trace, like an ugly bumpy snake. Slowly we crawled away from the fifty into an area of relative safety. Jurgens’ section tied up with the rest of First Platoon, as the rest of us went right on by.
Finally, I was able to get to my feet and walk. Once again, I was a muddy mess with no five-gallon bottle of water to shower off with. I’d looked at my fingernails earlier, thinking about writing another letter home, and wondered if they would ever be clean again. The blackness under the nails, like outlining on a piece of paper, seemed to have become a part of my body makeup. The firing at the head of the column had stopped, but so had the company. I moved against the cliff wall to kneel and study my map. Orienting against two peaks across the valley gave me a close enough approximation to figure out that we were about five clicks from our objective. The river was broadening, and pulling further away from the valley wall, while the hills on the other side were growing lower. If we could move another two thousand meters forward, then Cunningham could begin to drop rounds into the area we occupied, but there was a problem. We would be moving out of the natural cover the cliff had provided. The contours on the map spread out the further north we went, until the vertical face of the cliff wasn’t vertical anymore. If Captain Carter was up on the high ground the situation wouldn’t be untenable. But if Kilo wasn’t there, and I was willing to bet it wasn’t and the enemy knew it, then we were in even more trouble than I wanted to think about.
We followed Jurgens all the way to where Casey had set up his new temporary command post. He’d had someone dig into the side of the berm, so he had another cave-like bunker, albeit one made of leaves, branches, ferns and mud. It would be as likely to stop a fifty-caliber slug, when they moved that big gun upriver, as a few layers of Kleenex.
I dropped my pack and gear, unconsciously unclicked the safety on my .45 and stepped to the edge of his over-size hooch. Captain Casey sat with his back tucked into the opening, Rittenhouse was on his right and Jurgens settling in on his left, just like before. The Gunny was stationed a few meters up the path, leaning against the round side of the cliff wall, smoking a cigarette and looking like he was waiting for the first act of some Off Broadway play to begin. I looked around to make sure all the members of my team had come along with me, although I knew they were there without having to look. I also knew that we had to be some distance back from a point perimeter that had taken fire for everyone to appear to be somewhat relaxed.
The tension of being under fire is like no other, as it causes a hardening of the vocal cords, flatness of facial features while also making the core of a man’s being feel like it’s made of Jell-O that’s not quite hard enough. That the rear had been under heavy machine gun fire only moments before pulling out, and the company had stopped its advance because of sniper fire from the front, should have left Captain Casey more destabilized than he appeared to be. I squatted down without comment, kneeling before him on the edge of his poncho cover. He glanced down, and I knew he was unhappy about my muddy state, but still I said nothing, looking up into his brown eyes, his face still clean after being in some form of combat for two days. I wondered if maybe there was more grit to the man than I had previously thought. I waited for him to speak first.
“Are you going to report in, Junior?” he asked, as if there existed some formal ‘reporting in’ process for officers meeting in combat.
“We can’t go forward, can’t go back, and can’t cross the river,” I said, going right to the heart of our rather serious tactical problem. “The enemy has pushed us here, and then stopped us here. We can’t be here for long, or hell is going to land on us like a ton of old building bricks.”
“We have to clear the snipers in front of us, and that’s where you come in, Junior,” Casey said, repeating my nickname to the point where Jurgens smiled.
My hand went down to my Colt, and rested on the butt. I knew I could not shoot all three men in front of me. In my first few days of combat I had felt that I could and would shoot anybody, because I was dead anyway, but a few more days had taught me better. I was probably going to die, but there was a sliver’s chance I’d make it through somehow. If I shot the three men in front of me then there would be trouble. Either I’d not get out of the unit alive, or my life would be over when and if I ever did get out. My left hand clutched the pocket where the letter I hadn’t written to my wife should be. Her reply, if I wrote about sitting where I was and thinking what I was, would be wise.
“Don’t kill them,” I knew she would say, “just come home alive in one piece.”
I couldn’t kill them, but the Colt made me feel better by giving me that potential. Only Rittenhouse glanced down at my resting hand, and then looked away with some discomfort.
“I don’t think snipers are anything but a delaying action,” I replied. “They know where we are and where we’re headed, and they’ve been getting ready for some time.”
“The whole battalion is going to be coming in here so we’ll have plenty of reserves to back us up soon,” Casey said.
I noticed that he’d taken his boots off again. The sores on his feet no doubt healing, but taking some time to do so. I couldn’t believe the man, after losing two officers under his command within hours of each other, would be so careless again.
“Has Kilo Company occupied the ridge?” I asked, knowing the answer before I asked. Suppressing fire would have come down from Kilo’s position above on both the fifty we’d faced and the snipers up ahead if they were up there.
“Captain Carter has been delayed,” Casey answered, like that answer answered anything.
“I have a plan,” I said, wondering if I was wasting my breath, and also what I could possibly do to stay alive if Casey didn’t act on it.
“Oh goody, another Junior plan,” the captain replied, his tone one of derision. “Does it have another great name?”
“Half a League,” I answered, thinking about our position and how hemmed in we were by the enemy on all sides, except one.
“We’re half a league, or so, from the objective,” I said, taking out my map.
I laid it out before him. I pointed at the objective, actually printed with “Destroyed Landing Zone” on it, in red ink.
“Here’s where we’re going,” I said, as emotionlessly as I could. “And here’s where we are.” I hit the map with my finger just south of the objective.
“We’re about a thousand meters from this natural cleft here under the wall where it’s running out.” I ran my finger along the crushed together contour interval lines until the distance between them began to widen. “Here is where we’re taking sniper fire because we don’t have the berm to protect us anymore. But where that is happening is where the cliff wall becomes a hillside. My Light Brigade plan is to go up the hill, take the high ground and rain artillery down on the objective, across the river, and anywhere else we want. Kilo can come up behind us to reinforce, before we head back down to set up a perimeter around the objective. We can also call in air because we’ll be up high enough to direct it, and still be safe from it.”
“Light brigade?” Casey said, studying the map I’d laid before him.
The Gunny walked over from his position, flicking his cigarette butt into the bush. He squatted down to look at the map and analyze what I’d said.
“How far’s a league?” he asked, after a moment.
“About three and a half miles,” I answered. “About the distance we are from the objective, or will be if we climb that hill up ahead.”
“Where do you come up with this stuff from?” Casey asked, shaking his head, before picking up the map to view it closer. “And this is a better map than I have. Where do you get these maps? The objective isn’t even on mine. And what does ‘Destroyed Landing Zone’ mean?”
“The Basic School,” I answered, letting the rest of what he said go.
In reality, I could see no other way to survive. To stay where we were, was to be annihilated if the enemy was given enough time to bring really heavy weapons to bear. To occupy the objective ahead, with only a company-sized force, attacking directly frontally, was to merely delay the inevitable by a few hours or maybe a day, and that’s if the objective wasn’t fortified. There was no going back to where we’d been, and the river was an unpredictable barrier that could only be attempted in the darkness of night, and then with risk too high to consider, given so many of the Marines in the company probably could not swim. There was no other place to go and we had to go some place.
“I think it’ll work,” the Gunny said, suddenly.
“And I’m with the Gunny,” Jurgens followed with, immediately, but not meeting my eyes.
“The Light Brigade,” Casey said. “Up the hill, all the way, guns volleyed and thundered. I like the sound of that. Rittenhouse make a note of it. We’ll call it the Light Brigade Plan.”
I didn’t know what to say. There was no end to the gall of the man, as he again willingly agreed to my plan, and then sinuously and cleverly adopted it as his own.
Two rockets detonated not far from our position, and everyone went straight into the mud, dirt and bracken below the berm. We weren’t close enough for debris to spatter down, but we were close enough for our ears to ring. I realized that somehow the NVA had gotten high enough to plunge their rocket fire down behind the berm. The explosions had been from where we’d come but funneled in power so as to send a shock wave up the inside of the berm area. I also knew immediately that the enemy did not know we’d come as far up the valley as we had. It was time to get moving, and fast, before they figured it out. Even if fired in low over the top of the berm, the rockets would be deadly because of their powerful shockwaves.
“Get the company moving, Gunny,” Casey ordered, Rittenhouse beginning to break his hooch down and Pilson assisting. “Get to the front and call in artillery to give them something to think about,” Casey continued, pointing at me.
The Gunny raced up the cleft with me not far behind, dragging my pack along at my side until Zippo swooped it up and carried it for me.
“Got your back covered, sir,” he said.
I trotted as best I could. Marines were strewn about all over, as I went by.
Most did not take any note of my passing but a few looked up as I went by. None seemed to really recognize me, not from the mud darkened expressions I got, but then most of them didn’t make any facial expressions at all. It took only a few minutes to reach Sugar Daddy’s position. Once again the black platoon, the one supposedly that would not fight, was at point. It was like there were two ghost platoons in the company between First and Fourth. I rarely ever saw their shake and bake sergeant commanders. It was another mystery of the company to be worked out if there was ever a spare moment of down time to do it in.
I saw Sugar Daddy was laying flat, the berm having played out. I moved along the path, and then went down flat beside him, the threat of the reported snipers right at the forefront of my mind. The Gunny preceded me in reaching Sugar Daddy, but then moved up to the very point, a position in the low jungle I couldn’t see from where Sugar Daddy and I lay.
“We’re going up, I hear,” Sugar Daddy said. “Finally, some sense. The hill off to the right is covered with ferns and big rocks. It’ll be perfect to cover whatever’s up ahead. The Gunny said it was like the charge of the Light Brigade, except we’re not exactly charging anything are we?”
The cliff was nearly gone as I tried to move to Sugar Daddy’s left to see up the slope better. I could see it was a fairly steep slope, and I didn’t relish the idea of humping up it. There would be no resupply there or evacuation of our wounded. In order to accomplish any of that we’d have to secure the old landing zone and get choppers in. That would be no mean feat under fire, unless we could bring in so much of our own supporting fires that the enemy’s would be converted into guarding its own rear.
“The wounded have to be tended to down here, but we can cover anyone down here from up there,” I indicated to Sugar Daddy. “At least until Kilo Company shows up to reinforce us.”
“Kilo ain’t comin’,” Sugar Daddy said, with a faint laugh. “They follow, they don’t come, and they sure as hell don’t reinforce shit.”
“I can’t call anything in from down here,” I replied, ignoring his comments about Carter and Kilo Company. If we secured the high ground we wouldn’t need reinforcement, only some time, the battery to back us and maybe some air support. Getting up the hill with snipers unsuppressed didn’t sound appetizing at all, but I could see no way around it.
“I need a squad to go with me up there,” I said. “They’ve got to leap frog and set in behind rocks to fire back at anybody who fires at us. I’ll call in some diversionary artillery right now, and then assault the hill.”
I moved to Fusner and got the arty net handset. The fire mission was pretty straight forward. I started dropping Willy Peter rounds, exploding high in the air, a few hundred meters from where I figured our lead elements were pinned down. I strapped on my pack, and informed my scout team where we were going. Sugar Daddy’s squad didn’t wait. The men went right at the hill, just as the first artillery rounds started making their giant Fourth of July fireworks effects. Nobody would get hurt, friend or foe, but anybody under that stuff, or close by, was going to bury themselves as deep into the ground as possible in fear of what might follow the adjusting rounds. But I wasn’t going to waste Cunningham’s high explosive rounds firing them in on positions I couldn’t see or adjust from.
Sugar Daddy himself followed his squad and went at the base of the hill with extraordinary ferocity and skill, asking only one question before he disappeared into the jungle growth.
“How many died in that Light Brigade charge?” he asked.
I would have lied to him if he hadn’t been gone already. Half the men that had charged that day the poem was based on during the Crimean War had died in the attempt. The attempt had also failed miserably.
“They all made it,” I said out loud to nobody, before throwing myself at the hillside, only getting a few yards up before my thighs started to burn. It was going to be a long climb, but if I could take the hill then I knew I’d live, at least maybe for the rest of the day.
<<<<<The Beginning | Next Chapter >>>>>
Jim, a few things some of which may not need to be changed, just bringing them to your attention. I am glad you continue to write and glad to help you get through to print publication. Welcome Home. Dave.
The contours on the map (distanced out) the further north we went, until the vertical face of the cliff wasn’t vertical anymore. => perhaps spread out instead of distanced out
“Captain Howard has been delayed,” Casey answered, like that answer answered anything. => Perhaps Captain Carter is better rather than Captain Howard. Don’t think Casey would refer to Kilo’s Captain by his first name. Plus it is a little confusing.
“Oh goody, another Junior plan,” the captain replied, his tone one of derision. ‘Does it have another great name?” => double quote (“Does it) rather than single quote (‘Does it)
“Half a League,” I answered, thinking about our position and how hemmed in we were by the enemy on all sides, except one.
“We’re half a league, or so, from the objective,” I said, taking out my map.
=> these 2 sentences are almost 2 paragraphs and maybe they should be but presently the same information is in both sentences.
=> “Half a League.” seems like the answer to Casey’s great plan name question, but maybe it should be “Light Brigade,” as that is the plan name. Anyway this 2 sentence area needs a little work.
I laid it out before him. I pointed at the objective, actually printed with “destroyed landing zone” on it, in red ink. => capitalize “destroyed landing zone” to match below where Casey remarks abut it.
We’re about a thousand meters from this natural cleft here under the wall where it’s running out.” => needs a leading double quote.
I ran my finger along the crushed together contour interval lines until the distance between (then) began to widen. => (them)
I replied, ignoring his comments about Howard and Kilo Company. => perhaps Howard should be Carter
The editing team marches on and I cannot thank you enough, as it is tough to see the error of my own ways when I reread….
Semper fi,
Jim
James I find your story fascinating. I am the son of a Iwo Jima survivor who stayed in reserves only to come out of the Chosan on a truck with 14 wounded and 4 dead 1/8/1950 with frozen feet. Had some ugly toes. I was in PI at Subic when Nam fell in ’75 did 4 years as a diver. Stuck between a warrior and a hero, I felt the other side of war when my son was shot in Afghanistan, Shok Valley. Green Berets and Silver Stars for an ill planned mission. Your writing helps me digest the things I cannot fathom. The mile long stare of my sons team members, their candid remarks of life threatening events, and the cold silence of their thought. your story gives me a small glimpse of that reality. Thank you.
Thanks Patrick. I’m trying my heart out to make it as real as possible.
Tough project to get it right though… and thanks for the support here which means
so much. Sorry about your son…damn…
Semper fi,
Jim
Fascinating reading Jim. I don’t spend much time dwelling on those days, but I’m finding that it is healthy for me to re-visit from time-to-time.
former Sgt. C.R. James, USMC/ 2nd Bat,5th Marines ( was just a lance-cooley in country)
Thank you Curt. It is interesting to go back. For me too. We spend a good deal of our
time avoiding the thoughts and memories or trying to convert them into things they were not (like current
VA counseling tries to do). Facing it is hard. Facing it alone is the hardest unless it is facing it with
people who do not want to or can’t fathom what the hell it was.
Thank you for reading my work and finding value in it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Not sure how to comment here. I only feel compelled to do so. Army, 69-71. Basic at Ft Ft Bragg. Earned accelerated promotion. One of two of us tied for best in training. Was proud of it then. AIT at Ft Sill. 105 and 155 Howitzer. Earned another promotion. Also proud of that accomplishment. From there off to Ft Lewis for training on 8″ self propelled. Did a 30 day reforge trip in Germany to gain field experience. Always wondering what next knowing what was happening in NAN at that time. Upon returning from Germany I was informed and offered an opportunity to change my MOS into Air Defense at Nike Middle site in Arlington Heights, Il, which I accepted. Along with the move came another stripe. Up to the past couple years very few people I have known realized I had served. Lost some great friends who actually served in the shit hole that you so clearly bring to life in each chapter of your book. The promotions I received mean nothing compared to what you men endured. On one hand I’m relieved I didn’t go there. On the other hand I’m ashamed I wasn’t there to do my best cover for you and your men in the field. Still have many mixed emotions about it. I thank God you made it back and are able to share the real experience
Glad you didn’t go Jack. Your writing here has a solid healthy quality to it that might have eluded you if you had gone into that place.
If you’d gone into combat for any time at all and lived, or come out battered and beaten then you would not be the Jack everybody knows
today. Remember going to a party in 1976. There was a Viet vet across the long table from me. Some guy was talking the awful crap that
some people talked to vets who’d made it back at the time. The vet looked at me and I looked back. We both got up without comment and
went out to the garage. We had a beer together without talking about the asshole. Amazingly, however, the asshole opened the door and came
into the semi-dark garage. He bubbled over in his apologies. Both of us vets accepted. Then he left and his beautiful wife came in.
“Well, did he apologize?” she wanted to know, hanging half way through the door. I told her that he had. The guy with me asked her what
she’d told him to get him to apologize. “I told him I’d fucking kill him if he didn’t,” she said, almost tearing up. ” My brother was over there.” She left. We finished
our beers, not feeling so bad. There are good and bad out there, as there were in the Nam. You are a good one Jack.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT. That junior stuff is making me madder than a pissed on monkey! How did you keep from going off on those butt licks?!
Fear…Larry. I’ve never been so afraid in my life. I was more afraid of them
than I was of the NVA. I could predict the NVA, plan against them, call in artillery on them…
but the guys in my unit?
Shit.
Thanks for the comment and the sentiment…
Semper fi,
Jim
trying sometimes to figure out where you are on a map, on ground where trees don’t allow for visual observation of terrain is difficult. Especially when the need for artillery is critical. I knew approximately where I was, but was too unsure and didn’t want 105’s on me or my yards. Had to break contact and back out and find terrain features I could be sure of.
I have some photos of some of the Montagnards I worked with in II Corp. If you’d like I can email them to you.
I would love the photos and really appreciate you sending them. The email is antaresproductions@charter.net.
Thank you so very much!
Semper fi,
Jim
PS Guessed artillery spotting rounds too many times, myself….
I really enjoy reading your first hand accounts of life in Nam. As a young boy … watching TV … I prayed for the men fighting communism … saw several of my sister / brothers friends come home wounded or different… many of the guys who were so fun / mischievous came home quiet and withdrawn … thank u for letting me walk thru your/ their pain. Cannot wait till next chapter. Thank you and all vets for your service. God bless you all
Thanks for liking the story and my writing.
It takes something to get it all down and then onto the site and finally
into print. What an undertaking and I’d have never done it by deliberation.
I accidentally started and then the guys like you on here have kept me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you James keep at it.Welcome home Brother!My trips down the rabbit hole are fewer these days.Thank you for letting us know we’re not alone!
You are not alone. Over there sometimes it sure felt that way, but not back
here. I find people to be around, although not many of them are vets. I find a lot of
Viet vets are the same way. They like to be around people but not vets in particular.
Especially the Legion guys and the VFW crew.
Thanks for writing what you wrote…
Semper fi,
Jim
Casey really torques my jaws!!!!! That junior crap is really getting old! Those types of guys are everywhere, seems like, and I take pleasure in dishing it back, in spades! I hope the Lord will forgive me on that Great Day. I am really into this story! Keep it up brother!!!!
THANK YOU LARRY!! Nice to have your kind of support. Not a regular book and not a regular story.
I am most happy that I was not as alone there as I thought I was. So many guys on here had some or all of what happened to me
happen to them in other ways. Real brothers.
You are one.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, personally I would of shot Jurgens first then Casey while they were in close proximity to each other. Then again I wasn’t there. Much respect sir.
Tough stuff to shoot people on your own team even when they appear to deserve it.
There are always other relationships to consider. And I was deep into considering those
the longer I was there. Thanks for the sentiment and the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Tony, To kill your own would have been downright STUPID. Are you serious?
No Peter, Tony is not stupid. He was simply in similar circumstance.
The enemy is anybody and every body who might keep you from getting out of there
alive. Anything else is merely a very believable covering lie. That was what Tony was speaking to.
Semper fi,
Jim
LOL I can laugh about it now but back then it wasn’t all that funny . The ability to do a low crawl was a bit of an art form that you learn very quickly in combat . There is no shame in getting your nose to the ground and slithering like a snake . You feel like a giraffe and want to be more like the little mouse that can scamper from one place to another without notice . I saw men who had it down pat and others not so much with their butts higher than their head as they looked like bouncing frogs through the bush . It’s amazing how low you can get and how fast you can move when you start hearing the rounds make a buzzing sound over head or impacting the vegetation around you .
Yes, the art of slithering like a snake seems to be quite natural to the human condition under fire.
You can stay pretty damned low and move fairly quickly too. Not fun and quite exhausting, however,
not to mention dirty. Thanks for the comment and the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Being an USAF “Armchair Commando” I never had to do the low crawl, but I did have the need to get as close to the ground as I could. I’ll assume that you guys knew that you could get closer to the dirt by cutting the buttons off your uniform 🙂
I like that buttons comment. Funny. Never thought of that one!
Thanks for the comment and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
We used the term “cussing our buttons” at times like this. The worst part was when you had no choice but to relieve your bladder!
Yes, there was the bathroom crap. God knows how many holes the Marines dug across
the landscape of the Nam. And how many times relief happened right there on the deck
and the mess of living in the clothes afterwards. Shit.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve re-read this story a couple times now. Love it.
It appears that the men, even Jurgens and Sugar Daddy are beginning to realize that their best chance of survival is with you calling the shots and not Casey. Perhaps even the good Captain is coming to his senses and starting to understand that this isn’t a war game and has decided to use your plans and ideas. Seems that way just from the way that the antagonist in the story are acting (Jurgen’s agreeing with your plan and Sugar Tit attacking the hill with his men) Nice work!
Trying to figure out what was in the heads of the men around me at any given
time was a trail greater than trying to figure out how to keep from having the enemy
figure us out and then wipe us out at their convenience. Marines area tough lot and
an even tougher lot in combat. Thanks for the compliment and the comment here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim—Not going to tell you your doing a good Job as that is a given.l check a couple of time a day to see if there is a new episode and if there is I make myself wait maybe the rest of the day before reading,that way do not have to wait as long for the next one.I’m not too bright but think it works for me.You may have answered the before,but is this 30 days a ruff draft and will be turned into book form with more text or just turned into a book?Either way I have to get book to pass around to others. Semper Fi
First book will be out soon. Jut picking the cover art now.
Thanks for being so into the story and taking the time and courage to make comments here. And thanks
for passing the word around. It’s hard to do things from scratch without the support of a publisher or production
facility.
Semper fi,
Jim
No editing here. Just an observation. What you describe went on for 10+ years and the public barely flinched. A private government/industry operation. Sorry about being political on this. Combat is combat and any diatribe about it is mute. Love your personal descriptions. So true.
Thanks Dave. Politics drives combat but then washes its hands while the combat is going on
and afterward. Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Afternoon Jim, Yes love it, Let the story be told raw and deep, There is deep truth in what you are reveling as you write it raw….Like the unhealed wounds that still fester from then till today, Yes reality deep raw and ugly Yes, From one magnificent bastard of the dark to another, Keep the story coming raw…… I am waiting on your book, I will buy it, But two things, Yes, The response’s as they come in now, and the raw story before editing, should be added, especially the responses from those who saw it in the reality of then.
I find it funny, The discussions of time travel, and I have come to the conclusion that it would be impossible, For like a Map those points in time are fixed and in flow of time and space they are fixed to the past to be learned from, I do believe that God made that so, Yes so we could never go back to wreak justifiable vengeance on those who would abuse our youth so venially, The Dwyer’s Stewart’s Casey’s, Jergen’s….. Yes if time travel was possible we would have a time world of blood feud that would make the worst of any historical feud look like a dance after the Friday night football game.
Yes, I sit and read, and My now screams with suggestions and knowledge that cannot be transmitted back to a person, That My military career taught me to mentor, conserve, and protect, Yes, I have put together a good map with the information in the story, Yes flying slicks gives me a highpoint overview of the world of shit the A Shau Valley is in the coordinate in time and space is for a young Second LT. I can see two other FSB that could bring fire, one to your direct east, FSB Bradley a Army FSB, and one to the WSW of Cunningham, LZ Erskine, Yet due to what ever it appears that you were not informed of their existence for what ever reason…… Yes the stupidity of inter service rivalry, and the Fog of War, Yes, I want to badly to have a way of getting that information to the Fighting Bastard Junior because I am suppose to take care of my men first, last, and only when Murphy queers the play, say good by, rest, you have done your time min hell…. Yes, My Crew Chief …. My CWO II … My Platoon Sargent …. selves and Now my Old Bastard are screaming all of our hope and knowledge and prayers for a LT. Named Junior, a Magnificent Bastard of the Dark…… Lost ion time …. Thankfully still alive to tell the story, Yes, That is why I believe in God, Because this is his plan for you, to tell Your story and Help other Heal, and Heal Yourself Junior, SIR! LT. Strauss.
SFC. Robert J. Ecklund, Army Ret. Welcome Home Brother May we sing the Ballads of Valhalla In the Great Halls of our Ancestors……..
Sometimes I read these comments and don’t feel like I can compare. The depth of your
thoughts and the way you have expressed them here is an art form. You are gifted in being
able to write in such a way as to draw in and hold the reader. That much of what I did and now
do occupies such a central place in that writing is a great compliment. Thanks you.
I just finished a long flight and can barely stay awake. I will read your remark again
later to see what more i can glean from it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I am as sick as you were, about these crumbs calling you “Junior”. When will you get some respect! I am sure in the world, you would kick their butt, or just walk away. They certainly wouldn’t be your friends.
Respect in combat comes in strange packages and from strange places, kind of like it
can and work here. A look from Nguyen. A nickname when nobody else has one.
An unspoken group decision not to kill you. Just different back here, not
necessarily that different, however. Thank you Dave!
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I only saw you guys who got lifted out from an LZ in one piece and not. We tried to make you comfortable, safe, and almost able to laugh at our stupidity, I hope y’all remember some of us with humor, as we remember you all as the best damn men ever to ride a litter. Thank you for your story now because you almost never told us anything back then.
when I was ‘lifted out’ I could not talk Joe. I could only point, blink my eyes and hope.
Thank you for being one of those wonderful God Sent humans who pulled us out…
Semper fi,
Jim
Sugar daddy seems to be pretty much on top of his game but the captain is hopeless. Suspect sugar daddy is learning junior is trying to save them all in spite of the captain incompetent.
Tough to second guess these players, as they changed like shape-shifters due to fear and tough
changing circumstance. Me too! Thanks for the comment and conjecture…
Semper fi,
Jim
Nice visualization and very exciting. Looking forward to reading more, soon. Keep up the great work!
Thank you Daniel, I will continue the pursuit of this story
through thick and thin. It’s hard to stay on with everyone and everything else in
life sort of putting different pressures in different places. There are some people who
do not want this story out. I am hard at though. Screw them!
Semper fi,
Jim
As usual, I can’t wait for the next chapter with a sense of sorrow considering that all good things must come to an end. Vietnam was the deciding factor between the Draft and the Volunteer Army. I don’t understand the Corp’s all volunteer force’s divided loyalties while in combat. I know of our society’s divisions during the war and after, but I thought the Corp would be different than the Army.
Why is my comment awaiting moderation? I didn’t expect censorship from this site.
You’ve made two comments. I answered the first one back two weeks ago when you made it. You other comment, other than this one, was made earlier
today. You are not being censored. Nobody is here. Not yet. Maybe that will come if somebody gets really outrageous, I don’t know. IT’s just that I flew
back this morning and can’t sleep on airplanes so have to stay awake the rest of the day to go to bed at a decent hour. So, I’m bonkers. Forgive me.
I am trying to answer everyone but 49 comments in half a day is a bit daunting when I can’t see shit or think my way through a rain puddle. Sorry Doug!
Semper fi,
jim
Sorry Jim, my bad. I didn’t take into account your busy schedule, but my anxiety is evident. I just want to follow your war and I am hooked.
Pleasure to have you aboard and you don’t have to apologize for anything you put up on here.
Thanks for liking the story and sticking with it and me…
Semper fi,
Jim
I’m not sure the divided loyalties in combat had much to do with volunteer or drafted nature of service.
It was more of survival and how could enhance or damage it.
thanks for the encouragement here and the support in your words.
Semper fi,
Jim
The marines were drafting in ’65 as I was almost one of them. I had enlisted in a national guard unit a week before my second physical at age 19 but was told by an army sergarent I had to go through the physical and written exam anyway. After the exams we reported back to the room and now there also a marine sergarent in the room and he had about 10 folders of the total of 100 men. He called my name out and said I wasted their time since I was already in the service. The army sergarent jumped and said he asked if anyone had prior service but that I had not said anything. There was an up roar in the room as the men knew I had said I was in the guard. I said nothing as I didn’t wish to rock the boat. I was promptly dismissed from the session which was fine with me. I left the room in a flash. So yes the marines were drafting and continued for all or most of the war.
Thanks Patrick for that clarification and that information.
Semper fi,
Jim
Slight correction, the NVA heavy machine gun was a 51 cal., ours was the 50.
The Soviet Fifty and the Browning both fired rounds of .51 caliber.
They could not fire each other’s cartridge, however. Also, the Browning
rounds were about ten to twenty percent more powerful.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
You are correct, Jim. I use a Russian .50 (12.7×108?) (.51?) caliber bore sighter on my .50 BMG (12.7×99) rifle. The spud of the bore sighter fits smoothly, but without slop in the bore of my rifle. First shot on target every time (so far!). The nomenclature difference may simply be a means of avoiding confusion, and the cartridges are definitely not interchangable.
Thank you for the confirmation on that small point Mike. The fifty is a fearsome weapon, although the U.S. version stronger
and more powerful than the Soviet copy.
Semper fi,
Jim
How did you transport the dead and wonded when you basically had to crawl ?
We dragged them along in makeshift litters made out of ponochos and poncho liners.
We didn’t leave anyone behind, but we didn’t move that fast either. Mud is a great lubricant,
by the way! Thanks for asking. The work load on combat Marines was beyond anything training might
envision. It’s just overwhelming. The fatigue in times of rest is almost too great to recover from
in any one setting or short period of time.
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, In the Cav as it was with the Marines, Leave No Trooper behind!
The NVA took advantage of this on more than one occasion….. In Cambodia we had a four day fight to recover a loach crew that had went down to a .51… The NVA didn’t seem to care about their losses as long as they could make us bleed to recover our own…. We killed a bunch to bring home 2 trooper…… Yes Home to Fiddlers Green…. Semper fi, Brother.
I remember the sniper sequence in Full Metal Jacket, where the sniper kept wounding
the downed Marine so as to shoot the others coming to the rescue. It was realistic, but not
so much. Supporting fires are more available and devastating than that (the building the sniper was in would simply have been gone
in that world of mortars, artillery and air). Most wounding also does not cause screaming and carrying on, although some of it does.
the shock of taking high velocity hits from significant caliber weapons is pretty extreme. An hour later it’s anything but shock
though as every fiber of your body screams with agony. We brought all our people along and back and they NVA did not do a bad job
with their own in the bush. We left their bodies they could not get to alone and they respected the few we left But that was
then and there in those mountains. Maybe different elsewhere.
Thanks, as usual, Ron…
Semper fi,
Jim
“The tension of being under fire is like no other, as it causes a hardening of the vocal cords, flatness of facial features while also making the core of a man’s being feel like it’s made of Jell-O that’s not quite hard enough.” Of all the great descriptive lines you have used, this one resonates across the years and deep into the memories.
Like the rest of your readers, I look forward to the next section.
Thanks James. Just remembering back and laying it down. Much appreciate you noticing and commenting here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Riveting as usual, good thing Sugar Daddy didn’t know the answer to his question about the Light Brigade charge! I have this picture in my mind of what you were faced with and I don’t know how you made it out. Guess I’ll have to stay tuned to find out.
Couldn’t see any way out for most of the tour. Thanks for thinking about that and
commenting on it here. Tough time and being such a young kid when I did it. Hard to believe
now.
Semper fi,
Jim
Once more a great episode, I am amazed you were able to function as well as you did with a fool like Casey and dealing with Jurgens and Sugar Daddy. Outstanding writing, keep up the good work.
You function in combat like a sort of a morph between a damaged Tonka truck and
a Slinky with a few bent coils. You sort of bounce along from one situation to the next
with few smooth transitions or parts along the way.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I became a member of the NCARNG in Dec, 1969, after graduating from college. Four years later OCS, and then OBAC at Fort Sill. There is NO WAY I could have even come close to being qualified to shine your boots, sir. Sink or swim, in the in the deadly game of life or death, to include by your own forces, you are one green officer who just excelled ! I can’t imagine. Your writing style is riveting, I look forward to every chapter and even more forward to owning your book.
Well, I didn’t think I did that good, to tell you the truth.
The men I was assigned seemed like they were for shit but they were pretty
good once I learned the circumstances they labored under. Thanks for the complimentary comment
and caring.
Semper fi,
Jim
no let-up for you and the men , no let-up for us who read it , thanks
bill
Thanks Bill, I only turn out a chapter about every three days. The re-write and
edit takes a day all by itself. It should go faster but I have to consult with my maps,
diary, letters and all that, not to mention the old manuscript. Thanks for caring and staying with me
as I write along…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
When everything is going as planed, it’s an ambush. Looks like the NVA want you going up that hill, they’ve been pushing you that way since dawn. Since they move about the valley with impunity I would expect them to be on top to greet you all. Pin you down all over the hill, do that Custer thing. On the face your open to all the shooters.
If you can like anything about our war, I like mine better. At least they left us alone until they decided to wipe us out, then it was just quick. You just get toyed with like the cat and mouse, remember some of the mice die from the fear and horror of playing with the cat.
Butch
Staying alive from one day to another was part planning a part luck.
You just did not know what move to make next and command back in the career
knew even less (although they acted like they knew more). Thanks for the
bright comment and your conjecture…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT. I know it going to be a hard hillside to get up. I was in central highlands. You are right on to take the higher ground were you can get your firepower in to keep them off of you. Good job
Some B52s would be nice to walk that Valley
The Arc-light strikes could only be called in if you were 10,000 meters or more distant from the area of the strike.
At least by the rules of engagement at the time. Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Higher ground was always better, mostly because our supporting fires were so strong and low ground tended to limit
the effect of those (like down in a valley). Thanks for the observation and commenting about it.
Semper fi,
Jim
We’ were on one mountain and the NVA were on the the next mountain when the B-52 made there run. We could not see the B-52s or hear them. It was like the end of the world seeing that run on that mountain
It was amazing how much ground movement occurred at great distances from
the arc light strikes. Thanks for your remembrance…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn you Strauss! After another 70 mile day into the wind and with my thighs burning, I should be catching Zs, but NO.Another riveting chapter out that won’t wait until tomorrow. I remain amazed at how completely you have your shit together after less than 2 weeks in combat. Then I look back and realize yet again that it has been 2 weeks of CONTINUOUS combat! JMJ!
Yes, the combat was continuous and that was totally unexpected and never told to me in advance.
Id watched war movies as a kid and the guys always got breaks or trips to the rear. Hell, Saving Private
Ryan was filled with contemplative moments as was Band of Brothers. Well, it wasn’t like that. Not at all.
And I was stuck with what I had not what I thought I was supposed to have.
Semper fi,
Jim
When Casey called you junior I shot him myself. It’s one thing to suffer from idiots like Jurgens but for a fellow officer to openly agree to defame another is simply unforgivable. Honestly, the gunny should have never tolerated it either and that included confronting the CO in private. Simply BS.
You could not kill everyone. I had to learn that because when I was thrown out into the shit I was frightened, terrorized
and wanted to do just that. You have to try to work with what you have because your replacements might very well be worse
and just how many FNGs do you have time to work with?
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I feel the odds are in your favor for the first time since you were dropped in. Positively exciting now. S/F.
Thanks Ron. I did’t think so at the time. I felt I had some chance but more like 95-5 rather than fifty-fifty or better.
Thanks for thinking about it and commenting here that way…
Semper fi,
Jim
the crushed together contour interval lines until the distance between (then) began to widen Semper Fi
Thanks for that short comment, which I’ll take as a compliment Roger! Thanks for writing it here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Casey is getting careless, gonna get himself killed. I would think he should have his shit in one sock by now. Some never learn until it’s too late.
Learning is fast in combat, but then the time one is given to learn is very very limited.
You better learn in seconds and make snap decisions in even less time.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Your description of Casey reminds me of some of the prize winners who ended up on the Lottery. I never felt bad when I heard the won that week’s lottery. This is hands down the best description of Nam I have ever read
Thanks for the compliment. I’m willing to bet that not many vets came home after being in the real stuff
and also able to write intelligently about it. It’s taken me a lot of years to get here and also to finally not
give a shit what people thought about what I did….much less believe it. Junior was not a nice guy and had
no principals that weren’t selfish at the time. I didn’t like him then and I don’t much care for reading about him
now. And he was me. I’m better now. I pray. In every way. Every day. And then I pray some more.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
The whole time I’m thinking it would be nice to off Jurgens just to release some of that black cloud pressure that comes with his presence.
Oh Casey……….what do we do with you?!
I’m starting to get the feeling he’s one of those charmed guy’s that’s soo dumb they never get so much as a scratch, but all the awards. For doing nothing
He didn’t do nothing. He endorsed my plans and the Marines thought of him as a commanding officer when they
could not or would not give me that respect. I was a mixed bag of court jester tricks and wildly unpredictable
behavior and comment. I was crazy as a loon but their crazy when the chips were down, which was pretty much all the
time. My phone mostly rings the same way today. People don’t call me much when they want to make small talk.
They call because they are in deep shit and need artillery and they’ve heard I can call it in. Metaphorically, speaking, of course.
Semper fi,
Jim
I found it interisting that at 12 days in when you go into a meeting you still take the safety off your 45. And still think about…. Well ya know. It’s an interisting pressure relief, knowing you can. If you want.
You need to find a way to deliver future stories in this format where both you and the publisher can make a buck. The messages are important to the story, It really builds the pressure and stress. There’s no tearing thru a book here, we are forced to be patient. I’ll still buy the book, I’ll send it to my son.
You will send it to your son. No higher praise. Thank you. The comments here are of such depth and significance that they demand
depth and significance. I cannot just make some light quippy answer up. I sit here in this coffee shop thinking about each one
and I agree. These comments effect the work and also are a work in themselves. It’s a strange thing going on here. I did’t plan it
and I don’t know what to do about it except continue what we’ve been doing. No publisher of any standard books is going to be able
to understand this. None I’ve ever heard of, anyway. I write these every day and then I return to the story. There is a filtration
process going on. I filter what’s said here into my mood and mental formatting process. I know I do. The writing here does not
effect the plot or the theme of the revelations and creations in the story. That detail is controlled by the times and the experiences
I went through. But my mind’s flow is effected. And I also am made, without direct attention paid to it, to feel better about what I did and how I
acted.
Thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim- no response is needed for this its just a follow up. I know this is turning into a project and is time consuming.
The statements you reply to fill in a lot of blanks. How many books have you read and you had that moment when you had a question or maybe a huh moment? With this format all those questions are answered, and IMO are a book within a book. I’m sure you didn’t expect this, but you obviously hit a spot here, a real need and something that Is really an interactive book of sorts.
Appreciate the hard work, more than you thought I’m sure, but bring an innovator is never easy. Lol.
Well, I haven’t thought of it quite that way, but you have one hell of a point.
I’ve read a lot of books I had questions about and didn’t even have anyplace at all to
send anything to. Hell, I didn’t even know if the guy on the cover wrote the book
and certainly could not get any credibility from reading other comments he or she might have made.
I do know that almost all author recommendations on covers are paid for by the author putting the book out.
So much for that crap. Thank you for giving me credit for the innovation. Actually, it was by accident and
mostly because of the comment guys and gals here saying such heartfelt stuff. Thank you though!
Semper fi,
Jim
That .45 thing. A secret. For the rest of my life, under so many different circumstances, I have reached down
to rest my hand on the butt of that Colt that’s not there anymore. I still feel the movement of that small lever
and the distinctive little click it makes. I don’t miss that gun. It would be sick to miss that gun strapped to my waist.
Fuck it! I miss that gun.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, oh that is so true. Retired 11 years and I’m still reaching.
Thanks Terry, for the reply and for commenting about stuff here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t miss mine, because it is right here! I pray I never have to use it, but I will!
Good for you Bill. Because you don’t want to use it and you live back here in the land of the
round eyes, so to speak, you will never have to. Thanks for helping make things that way…
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t miss mine, either. It is still here, though it has evolved into a more modern form. a double action Smith & Wesson in the same, best, caliber. I go to bed every night, making sure it’s there next to my bed, and praying that I’ll never have to use it again. But I will never sleep without it/
The big galoot has some stopping and staying power. Stays with most of us who befriended it
in difficult circumstance so long ago…Thanks for sharing your affection…
Semper fi,
Jim
I get the “…jello that’s not quite hard enough…” as a good enough picture of some of my indescribable, angry ambivalence at the the audacious sonsofbitches that tried their best to kill me. Not to mention the vocals… The first time I hollered out “INCOMING”, I was surprised no one laughed ’cause I kind of croaked like a timid toad. Good stuff, sir. Thanks again.
Or the coughing. I would get coughing attacks sometimes as in this next chapter.
Hard to explain. I don’t know where they came from or went or why they were there.
I got one when my partner in San Clemente was killed on the beach by a nut case.
I was at his funeral, first on the right carrying his casket. We were cops so
there were thousands of police officers and families there. I started coughing out of
nowhere and could not carry the load. I had to fall out. Everyone thought it was grief
and I did feel the grief but it was an actual physical coughing fit that was real and terrible.
It must have lasted for five minutes and I had to get away in the cemetery before it stopped.
I don’t get those attacks anymore but I still fear them.
Thanks for the comment and mentioning the difficulty of talking sometimes.
Semper fi,
Jim
Casey, worrying about his feet instead of his and everyone else’s lives. What a fool. Will he ever learn? Either he has balls of steel or his IQ is three points above that of a plant. I’m inclined to believe the latter.
Keep it coming James. I was having withdrawals between the last dose and this one. Semper Fi Brother.
Casey was a piece of work. But, like I was, he was our piece of work. You work with what you
got in combat or you kill it and killing it usually means you get something worse in the next delivery.
Or so I learned. Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Your writing style is such that it is not as though we are reading yet another historical fiction story about Vietnam. You make us feel a part of it. My God, my heart was racing! So good.
Thank you Bob. I am doing my best and until I hear from people like you I have no idea of how readers take the reading of the story.
Interesting. When I re-read to edit it seems pretty analytical without much emotion. Just the way it was kind of a thing. But readers
don’t, by and large, seem to read it that way. Funny how my mind could see it so differently.
Thanks for that, and for supporting the telling of the story the way you receive it…
Semper fi,
Jim
I think Bob has said it well. You make us feel a part of it. You draw us into the story, we are there with you, our hearts pounding with every move. Perhaps that is why I read each chapter two or three times.
Great work Jim!
Thanks Richard. I have received quite a few compliments for the interaction of book and comments
and I have to give a lot of credit to you, the commenting public. The situation and the time was emotional
and I suppose that is coming through. Thanks for commenting on that and the compliments you intended. Received!
Semper fi,
Jim
Turning us into speed readers with the way you draw us into this battle is just mean, Lt. Waiting is misery!
I hope there weren’t too many that had a Casey to contend with, seems the war itself was more than enough to deal with. It must have been great fun working so closely with those that would have smiled at your demise.
Picture, if you will, a line of cheerleaders chanting Go, Jim, Go!! Get to writing, I need more!
Coming at you Walt. Should have the next chapter out by tonight.
The hill and that whole thing. From one hill, mountain, canyon, river and valley to another.
That country was something and the small, aggressive and never-ceasing enemy a tough competitor
for lives. Thank you, as usual Walt!
Semper fi,
Jim
Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do or die, damn James, have read and re-read that poem a thousand times, still get choked up when I put in the context of the crap we did over there, and now in reading your gut wrenching monologue of your trip so far. I will follow you and this tale to the end, I thank you, Sir.
Thanks for likening the charge poem with my story. Yes, I used it, and other stuff I thought up, to try to motivate my Marines
and give them the idea that I might know more than I did. My lack of experience was the one think I knew would get me killed by
them and any wrong guess might bring that on at any second. Unless they grew to need me. I was trying to be needed and I was
total whore in borrowing, stealing and even lying about anything famous I could latch on to as my own. Thanks for the compliment
about the writing. I much appreciate that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another mesmerizing chapter. Eagerly awaiting the next one. A few corrections below.
Either the NVA had had time to organized (organize) a full-fledged defensive force or they were using selective sniping to stop the company until they could get that organized.
The big gun kept up it’s short bursts, never lowing (lowering) the elevation to penetrate the berm or cause fatal damage.
I rarely every (ever) saw their shake and bake sergeant commanders.
I can’t express thanks and amazement enough for so many readers having a keen rye for editing.
Appreciate your notes Richard, and the situation fixed.
Semper fi,
Jim
Good Morning all, Jim you have mentioned shake and back Sergeants, I went to NCOC NON Commission Officer coarse, at FT. Benning coming out an E5 buck sergeant, top of class came out E6, did the Marines have a similar program. Are program was very similar to OCS Officer Candidate coarse. I am really enjoying your story. I tell every Viet Nam Vet I possibly can about it, and suggest they read it. As previous poster said. So I can help you continue to spread your your work God has placed you to do. Your doing a good thing here and I for one am getting some help. Thanks Jim from Don
Shake N Bake referred to sergeants promoted from within, not you guys who went through training and
life experience to get the well deserved stripes. Thanks for enjoying the story and for writing about it here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Its instead of it’s. It’s means the same as it is. A contraction I believe it’s called. Great work I can’t wait for the next part!
Thanks Dave I am at work right this minute….
well, in a few minutes, anyway.
Semper fi,
Jim
Actually that should be “kept up its short bursts”; it’s with an apostrophe is a contraction of “it is”, not a possessive.
Thanks Scott, for being part of the editing team.
And for writing on here at all!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
wow best one yet. keep the good work going. from the brown water navy
Best one yet. Hmmmm. You know, I never know. I never know how a segment is going to be taken.
Sometimes I wonder while writing or editing or just after but I’m invariably surprised.
My comprehension of the human condition remains as foggy and blithered as it was back then.
We go through our whole lives just trying like hell but unsure, even near the end, what we were
really trying to do…Maybe the Basic School of Heaven (or hell!) spends a course or two on
what were were doing down here (or up here!). Thanks for making me think and liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
I saw a couple of typos “every” instead of “ever”…small stuff not deterring from the value of your tale. I’m watching every day now for new chapters. If this were for sale right now, I’d buy it so I wouldn’t have to wait for the next chapter to be drafted! I’ll pick up your other books on Amazon if I can find them. You are a very skilled writer Jim. Thanks!
The first book will be out before you know it. I am just selecting the cover now.
Thanks for the motivation to get it out.
It should do well with the number of interested veterans here wanting it. Regular citizens may not
be so interested though. Thanks for wanting the book and commenting here.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
I am one of the “regular citizens” and I love what you’re doing with your nam story. I was 8 yea rs old when the “conflict” ended and I have never served in the military. I have recommended you to all my friends, as well as my 5 boys,and I have yet to receive a negative comment.
Keep up the great you are doing!
Richard
Thank you Richard. Finally have the cover for the new book The First Ten Days
down so I can get that out. Appreciate the nod to the kids. Big compliment and I shall
endeavor to continue to merit such.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have been wondering what 2nd and 3rd platoons were doing. Probably trying to not get killed by those in the 1st and 4th. Has Sugar Daddy come to the realization that you are what is keeping him and his platoon alive. Seems like it, and he seems to have a good tactical sense of what needs to be done. He and his squad don’t hesitate to start up the hill. Why the hell is Jurgens staying snuggled up to Casey for. He knows by now that Casey isn’t even in the game and that someone (you) has to be on top of the situation if he has any hope of living. You, James, are one of those unique people that under pressure and high adrenaline, your mind ramps up to the speed of light and looks for solutions, rather than digging a hole and hoping something happens. I liked Zippo’s statement of, “I got your back, sir”, with the double meaning of I am going to help you (with the pack), and the “snipers” in front, aren’t going to have a chance to shoot you in the back. Hope you had a good time in Hawaii!
Thanks Joe. Hawaii is Hawaii. Anybody who goes out to visit relaxes. It’s in the flowers. It’s in the air. It’s in the ocean and event the sand.
It’s in the wafting music and in the sweet cloying foods. But if you go out there to live and you are not the right color then you picked the wrong place.
Still a lot of prejudice left out there. Thanks for the comments about the story too. Some of you out there are getting to know this story almost uncomfortably well!
Semper fi,
Jim
Well hell, James, what do you expect. When a new chapter comes out, I read it and just hear the story, return to Vietnam, feel the emotions, and just get to the end and absorb it all. Then, after two or three hours, I read it slowly and analyze the action and interaction. I then let that digest for a couple of hours, then read it a final time. So yes, we are getting to know the story…..we are living it with you. We are just glad we weren’t with you when you were going through it. Thanks for going thru the hell again as you recall it to write about it. Semper Fi, Joe
It’s not so bad going through it all again. I just run into spots, like last segment, that
I end up wishing I had done a better job. But being so damned young and in such a weird position
took away a lot of decision making ability. Thanks for the reading compliments and I will endeavor to
continue to earn them, I hope.
Semper fi,
Jim
Do I sense a coalition forming between you and Sugar Daddy vs. Casey and Jurgens, with Gunny in the middle? War has made stranger bedfellows.
Thanks Paul, for your conjectural thoughts about the situation. Can’t tell you, of course.
But it’s fun to watch your mind work as you try to figure the developing mysteries buried inside the
story might work out.
Semper fi,
Jim
Your C.O. is really pissing me off. That “junior crap” at your face and around the troops is way below unprofessional. Had an 0-4 like that in Bn. HQ. Made sport of “dissing” Lt.s and Capt.s working for him. Never did like him. Still don’t.
So many officers just sucked back then. I think they are better now but I don’t know what kind of military the
new all volunteer Army is. I Know that they are not as poor as we were. My pay was 333 a month back then and
that wasn’t very much at all. I used to take plastic bags to the officer’s mess when I got home, fill them and then stuff
them into my uniform blouse to eat for dinner that night! The lunch mess on base was free! Could not go to a movie because
had not cash to pay a babysitter! And so on. My last C.O. was a Lt. Col. with three rows of ribbons on his chest, never having
served any of his 26 years in combat. I’d just got out of the hospital, again, and being assigned to his Civil
Affairs unit. I was late for work one morning because my blouse bled through from the 4X4’s covering my abdominal
incision that kept unaccountably re-opening. I had to go back and change. He read me the right act, pulling the “Make Believe
Vietnm War Hero” routine on me. He hated that I would not wear my ribbons on my chest anymore. I was beneath his contempt, and then
he said there wasn’t a damned thing I could do. I left, went to my car in the parking lot, got my .45 out from under the seat, when
over to his Austin Healey parked in his reserve slot, and shot it three times in the hood. I got back in my car and went home.
I expected to be arrested and court-martialed. My wife, after I told her why I was home early, made me give her my .45 when and promise I would leave it with her for good. I did.
I reported to the 1st Civil Affairs Group on Pendelton the next morning in my Class A uniform. The C.O. never said a word to me. He never spoke to me again until I processed out in three weeks. I never heard about the incident until six months later when I was working at the Nixon Estate and a U.S. Marshall mentioned that he knew I was the guy who killed Colonel “Howling Mad” Taylor’s car. I said I wasn’t and that you couldn’t kill a car, anyway. That was the end of it.
Sorry to run on so. Yes, there were some really shitty officers over there and when I came home.
Semper fi,
Jim
I once read a series of 6 books; only the first was written when I read it. It took eight years and as each book came out I reread each of the others again before the new book. I think waiting the two to three days between installments of “30 Days” is as bad if not worse. I see little mistakes you make but I hope they’ll be found by a good proof reader before publishing (I won’t critique). An engrossing tale so different from the war I fought. But then war is a very personal experience no matter how similar or dissimilar each’s experience happens to be. Keep up the great work…works like yours should be required reading…and service should be mandatory!
Thanks a lot Roy. Nice compliment. Nicely made and well received.
I am working away as fast as I can…to get the story out and still have a life.
My wife thinks that telling the story is effecting me but I don’t think so. If it is then it is a good thing.
what are we supposed to do with these stories, just hold them close until we die, with or because of them?
Anyway, thank you very much.
Semper fi,
Jim
If Captain Morgan was up on the high ground the situation wouldn’t be untenable. But if Kilo wasn’t there, and I was willing to “be’ it wasn’t and the enemy knew it, then we were in even more trouble than I wanted to think about.
I think you meant bet.
Another gripper as the NVA herd the company into the kill zone. Can’t wait for the next episode. You have the gift to bring us along to witness your trial by fire. Casey is such a shameless leach. Fool doesn’t seem to learn taking his boots off shortly after sniper fire. I wonder if he even had a clue he was being herded into an undesirable position?
Really appreciate the careful reading and catching the typos, Pete.
We will have the episodes thoroughly edited before Publication.
Thanks also for your support
Semper fi,
Jim
Casey is an idiot who should thank God your there! I’m anxious for you to confront him about the “Junior ” thing. Time for some respect. I hated the b-40s too. Lost all hearing in my left ear due to the bastard! Pure luck that I was otherwise ok. Taking the high ground seems like a no brainer Jim which really makes me wonder where Casey’s head is! As usual can’t wait for the next chapter! Thanks Jim and Semper Fi!
Working away up on the side of that hill right now Jack.
Yes, Casey was a case but then what a mess the rest of us were too.
And don’t forget, this is all from my perspective and we do tend to be more complimentary
about ourselves than others.
Semper fi,
Jim
this sentence: “I was growing almost as uncomfortable with Jurgens as I was with the occasional bursts from the fifty were making me.” doesn’t need the last three words. But don’t take time now to correct it, just keep writing.
Thanks again for the sharp eye. Fixed it.
Had a bit of time waiting for flight home
Semper fi
Jim
Sugar Daddy may still be a little skeptical of your scramble for the ridge, but Sun Tzu would approve, I am sure.
Everyone was skeptical of everything and when lives are on the line everyone has
an opinion no matter how screwy it may be.. And that is trouble too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Will not be the grammer cop. Just keep em coming!! You have a way of making one feel as if they are at your side!! The 50 cal brought back memories. Good work!
Thank you Harold. You can be the grammar cop at any and all times. I consider it help.
Thanks for liking the detail of the developing story. I am working on getting it all as close
as I can to the original story and situation.
Semper fi,
Jim
“Always leave em wanting more” I hesitate to comment because I want you to get the next installment up instead of answering comments. This is some good writing. I now spend my free time (and some not free time) researching all that was going on in A Shau at the time you were there. Of course now as I read the ‘after-action’ reports I have to wonder what the real events were. Keep them coming, Semper Fi
Yes, Bob, you bring up an excellent point. The Daily Report and the After Action Reports, whether delivered by radio or in hard copy
were invariably filled with shit. I though that was op/con to my unit. I only realized when I got back to wait out my time for
a medical disability rating, that the training commands reports were filled with just as much crap, although not so life or death.
Thanks for bringing that up.
Semper fi,
Jim
James: Your efforts have kept a lot of men alive so far. Pity the Capt is such a pompous ass he cannot see that. In my opinion, should some one frag his ass, he’d have it coming. And the way that Marine told you: “I’ve got your back,” says that someone has realized your leadership skills and wants to keep you around. Sugar Daddy seems to be a good man to have on your side when the SHTF.
This chapter rates a “pucker” factor of about a nine. Awesome! Anxiously looking forward to comments and the next chapter.
Thanks again.
Thanks Ed, for the kind words and also for the intensity you have put into understanding the work>
I’m seldom aware of the effect of the writing except on here in the comments. Some people wonder how or why I respond
to all of them but how can I not? Would you not? Besides, I think the comments have a good effect on me and the work,
both together. Thank you for that.
Semper fi,
Jim