First light was almost upon us. I peered around the left edge of the ammo box. What I saw told me that there would be no more pawing around through the supplies dropped by the choppers in the dead of night. Through the misty rain, and what was left of the gently blowing night, I could see a slightly darker wave moving out of the jungle towards us. I also knew that we were all as good as dead if we stayed in our current position. It was either time to attempt to run back to the company lines under what covering fire the M-60s, grenades, and the Ontos could provide us or get back inside the hole and, with air hopefully on the way, wait the attack out and pray our hole wasn’t found. Three options, with not one of them being without high mortal risk.
My near constant conclusion to evaluating combat solutions whispered out of my tight grimacing lips.
“We can’t go ahead, we can’t go back and we can’t stay where we are.”
The same situation, with all different terrain and other variables, ever-changing but never-changing to come together and arrive at the same three solution conclusion.
“We can always attack, Junior” the Gunny whispered into my ear, obviously having overheard my depressive whispered admission.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, surprised.
“Let’s get back in the hole and make-up one of your plans,” he replied, then began to slither toward where the hole was located.
Nguyen followed him and Fusner was about to when I grabbed his ankle.
“Give me the AN-323. We have to have Cowboy or what’s coming across the flats will be the end of us by full dawn.”
“Talked to him, sir. He’s coming at first light,” Fusner got out, shaking his ankle to loosen my grip. “First light he’ll be here but he can’t come with the others because of the support they have to give Lima and Kilo.”
Fusner succeeded in getting loose from my weakened grasp and was gone ahead of me into the night. I crawled to catch up, well remembering my inability to find the hole on my own in full dark. It still wasn’t light enough to see well yet, and the mist was thickening into regular monsoon rain. The mist was actually harder to see through, but that wasn’t going to make much difference to the attacking force coming out from the jungle unless Cowboy could rain Skyraider hell down upon them.
The Gunny’s comment reverberated through my mind, as I crawled.
“Attack what, or who, or whom,” I muttered to myself, crawling along in the shallow path through the cloying mud left by the three before me.
The hole was there, but I only knew I had arrived by going right over the lip and dropping inside.
Fusner grunted as I piled headfirst into him. I slipped by him to land in the collected muddy water at the bottom of the hole.
“The plan,” the Gunny said across the total darkness.
I worked myself up out of the water to finally stand with both feet spread against the upwelling sides of the hole.
“Shouldn’t we be looking out there to see where the hell the NVA are?” I countered, wondering what kind of plan he wanted me to think up.
A plan that could have no foundation in reality that I could think of.
“Lima’s coming in from the south and they’re going to take it right in the side from Hill 975,” the Gunny said, speaking flatly and analytically. “Air is headed there to cover their move, little good that will do them. Kilo is headed across the eastern top edge of the highland again, to drop down the switchback parapet both our companies came down last week. Air is being diverted to cover their move too. That’s why only Cowboy is coming and he probably had to argue like hell to do that. Not like we haven’t over-used air a bit ourselves lately.”
I listened carefully to every word the Gunny said. It was the single longest speech I’d ever heard him give, and by far the most complex tactically. Every word he said was dead on and I knew it. It was his conclusion, spoken earlier up above that had, and still, haunted me. Attack who, when and how?
“Okay, you’ve got all the data, Junior,” he finished. “What do you have for us?”
I didn’t have anything, and I knew we were about to lose whatever time we had to prepare for an advancing enemy. For some reason, the Gunny wasn’t worried about the attacking force we’d been able to barely observe moving across the flats toward us. Was the Gunny gambling that heavily on Cowboy’s arrival to nail them, or the remaining fire of the Ontos to deter them? It didn’t make sense since we were not hot on the radio talking back and forth to Zippo and the Ontos crew.
“It’s a feint,” the Gunny finally said, when the answer to his question was met with my complete silence.
“Feint?” I asked, dumbly.
“They aren’t really coming,” the Gunny replied. “I’ve seen this before. The old attack at dawn thing. They aren’t coming because they know air support will be here, and the Ontos will be able to see them before they can get onto the mud flat close to us.
“Why the feint, though?” I asked, still not even partially understanding.
“They’re going after Kilo but they don’t want us to know,” he went on. “They want us to cower here waiting for relief. Hill 975 forces are going to take Lima apart, the NVA regiment in the bush here is going to make mincemeat of Kilo, and then they’ll both take their sweet time in mopping us up in a pincer movement when they’re done with Lima and Kilo.”
My mind suddenly exploded with white light. I got it. I got it all. I thought for a few seconds to get everything he’d told me together.
“The plan is to roll the Ontos to us here, and then move the company south in three prongs,” I said. “One of our platoons along the lower ledge of the cliff, one along the side of the Bong Song and the last two behind and supporting the Ontos in its charge. We pick up the remaining supplies in the light with those two center platoons. Our machine guns can be concentrated at the very front edges of our moving forces, firing enfilade flanking fire from the outer prongs while the center gunners use ground fire to cover the Ontos as it moves forward into the jungle and through it while blasting away with flechettes and high explosives. Screw Lima and 975 until we’re done crushing this force between us and Kilo.”
“Fusner, get Kilo up on the net and fill them in,” I continued. “Then call back to the Ontos and the company. Get Sugar Daddy and Jurgens. We move on command at dawn just like the NVA was trying to convince us they were going to do. The Ontos makes all the difference, and finding the additional 106 ammo dumped out on the mud flats here becomes vitally important. The Skyraider is there for punch through power and psychology.”
I got out of my pack, pushed it to Fusner, and then climbed my way to the top edge of the hole, standing on the platform the Gunny had fashioned. I could see the jungle as a rotten gray line, thick with moisture and mixed with the slanted rain now falling. Dawn was only minutes away. There was no enemy, as the Gunny had predicted. They’d come out under cover of darkness, absorbing our sniper fire, as a price of doing business, then faded back once they thought they’d put the fear of God into us. I stared toward the jungle and then turned to peer back up where our lines were. The Ontos was still invisible against the dark backdrop of the cliff face, but I knew it was there. I glanced once more down at the jungle area that was now totally quiet except for the thrum of the river’s passing and its ever-changing currents and eddies.
“They thought we’d be afraid,” I said out loud, to no one but the sodden rainy night around me. “They think we’re not a bunch of totally whacked out Marines with nothing to lose. Well hell, we’re afraid all right, but we’re about to become afraid for them and not of them.”
Saying the words made my back stiffen and my shoulders lift a bit. There was no real hope in the valley, but there was some satisfaction to be found here and there, and I just knew this was going to be one of those times where some satisfaction might be found. I canted my head down, listening to Fusner putting the Gunny on the radio with Kilo.
“It’s almost light, Fusner,” I said, looking down at the top of his helmet. “Maybe it’s not too early for your crummy little Armed Forces radio. Turn it on. We’re not attacking in silence.”
“The name, sir?” he asked, without twisting up from his position in supporting the Gunny while he talked on the short-corded handset.
I waited, looking up again into the rain while trying to gather some of it with my tongue. My hands and the rest of my body were encased in the awful smelling mud. I realized my old leeches were still with me, as I’d had no time to strip and get rid of them. I smiled at that thought, waiting for God’s inspiration. Maybe the leeches in the mud were really there, after all, I thought. Maybe the leeches that had to be there simply recognized that I was already taken. I was already owned by their brethren, and I had only so much blood to be equally distributed around.
Fusner fiddled over his tiny transistor radio. I knew the music, if it came on, wouldn’t matter in our current situation. The mock attack was over and, in minutes, the machine guns, the Ontos and hopefully the Skyraider fire, would drown out all other sounds. The song came, and I struggled to listen to the words I didn’t really know. The song was from the Beatles and it was already halfway through when it played up to the top of the hole. There wasn’t enough light to see the Gunny’s face when he glanced up at me in irritation, but I imagined his expression, and his patient waiting for what was to come next, and for my inspiration. It came with the lyrics: “Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, there beneath the blue suburban skies, I sit, and meanwhile back…” The song was called Penny Lane and the plan was named. I remembered the only lyrics I retained from hearing the song in college. Something about a nurse and poppies and those lyrics had back then, and right now, taken my mind to the famous WWI poem that had affected me.
“We are the dead,” I intoned to myself from the poem, “short days ago, we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow…”
“Penny Lane,” I said down into the hole. “The plan is called ‘Penny Lane‘.”
There was no way I was going to call the plan Flanders Fields.
The Gunny surged upward a few minutes later.
“The kid’s radio’s a bad idea and I don’t understand the name of this new plan,” he said, moving to lay next to me, with half his body out of the hole to keep his place.
“Kilo’s gonna be saved for the third time, which is kind of ridiculous if you think about it,” he said. “Lima’s gonna pay the price but it’s not one we laid on them. And these NVA son-of-a-bitches plaguing us from the beginning are going to feel our bite, as long as they’ve moved that .50 to help them pick Kilo off the side of that wall like slow-moving flies, that is.”
“Attack,” I whispered. “Attack. Where in the hell did you come up with that idea?” I asked.
“It was your idea, Junior, but Penny Lane, my ass.” He slipped back into the hole.
I ducked down, although there was no incoming fire. I squatted on the small step, my back pressed into the muddy side of the hole, still too dark to see anything but ghostly shapes, and then only if they moved. The platoon moving along the cleft overhang of the canyon face would be in the same situation as Lima Company was going to be in, as they moved south past Hill 975. Fire from the jungle side would pin our platoon against the cliff, while Lima would be pinned against the raging unswimmable Bong Song. My platoon would have one distinct advantage, however, and that would be the fire pouring into the jungle from the riverside platoon, along with the Ontos plowing through the jungle and dispensing flechette rounds forward and to either side. The NVA would at first believe they were pinning Kilo to the cliff before they would only slowly come to understand that they were the ones surrounded on all sides. The only place they would have to go would be down into their tunnels. Resupply. The word came logically to me, as I thought about dislodging or destroying tunnel works. Satchel charges, large and many would be needed. The shock waves from such underground blasts, as the charges were tossed into any openings that could be found, would penetrate up and down the tunnels, even sending terminal waves through solid ground.
“Fusner, get battalion on the line,” I ordered. “I want another resupply to our rear, as we attack into the jungle. We need more flechette rounds for the Ontos and we need satchel charges for the tunnels.”
“They lost Marines on that last one, sir,” Fusner replied, instead of moving to get on the net and making the call.
“And, so?” I asked, surprised he hadn’t simply made the call.
“They won’t come into a hot LZ where they’ve taken casualties,” the Gunny replied, “and you already know that. Besides, the 106 ammo will arrive too late and the satchel charges can wait until we’ve secured the surface to set them if we secure the surface.”
The Gunny was right again, I knew, although I was beyond the point where such missing of tactical elements embarrassed me. I had been reduced to needing all the help I could get, and what pride I’d had when flying into the country was all but crushed into non-existence. We were going to use a frontal attack on a most capable and equipped enemy. That knowledge was the only thing I could use in my mind to scrape up any sense of my old Marine Corps pride. I was, once again, hiding in a hole, but I was coming out and I was coming out fighting, and soon.
“We’ll let the choppers know the surrounding area is secure as soon as we get into the jungle,” the Gunny continued, “and it won’t be, but what the hell, we can always call the Army if the Corps pilots won’t come.”
It was strange to think about the amazing and conflicting belief systems that floated down into the A Shau field of combat and through the rear area surrounding it. The Army thought of the Marine Corps as the ultimate fighting force that it was not. The Marine Corps fought, but when the going got tough defaulted to the Army for help for what the Corps rear area couldn’t or wouldn’t provide. The Marine Corps delivered in a broken sort of tattered leadership way but delivered. The Army delivered in the following role, but also effectively delivered.
“Besides,” the Gunny said, in a lower voice, “the next resupply will also drop another contingent of FNG officers to relieve you, Junior. You are not the best-liked officer ever to land down in this valley.”
“The men like him though, Gunny,” Fusner said in the darkness.
“The men don’t like him,” the Gunny shot back, anger in his tone. “The Marines didn’t give a shit about anything when he dropped in. Now they want to go home. Figure it out.”
“He gave us hope,” Fusner continued, in a dogged low tone.
“He made it so nobody wants to be around him,” the Gunny shot back. “They want to go home to get away from him.”
“That’s kind of like hope,” Fusner replied, his sentence more of a question than a statement.
“They’re ready,” the Gunny said, changing the subject. “Where’s that extra grenade you had? The company moves out in three columns on that signal. Sugar Daddy’s coming high diddle-diddle right up the middle to follow and support the Ontos. The sniper team will do rearguard because I want them ready, with their weapons aimed at the last location of the fifty-caliber, the only flea I see in this plan of yours. If that thing opens up then they have to shoot the gunners or our goose is cooked, because we’ll be fully committed.”
I moved down from the step and began rummaging around for my pack, staying as far up from the cloying mud as I could. Fusner pushed it into my chest, as I floundered about. The M-33 was where I’d left it. I pulled it out, handling it gingerly. The 33 had a questionable reputation. The M-26 that had preceded it had been the old faithful of grenades, following the infamous pineapple grenade used in WWII and Korea. The 33 had a temper all of its own. Some said the pin was too easy to dislodge, others said that the timing fuse, supposedly measured to be five seconds precisely at the factory, was not as advertised. I didn’t really care. I would pull the pin, or the Gunny would, toss it ten meters away, or so, and then let the thing go off. I eased myself back into the alcove gouged out of the side of the hole, held the grenade tightly to my chest with both hands and waited.
Why was the Gunny sticking to the phony story that the plan to attack was my idea? I had no clue. Why had he chastised Fusner about what my Marines either thought or didn’t think about me in such a negative and emotional way? Once more, I had no idea. That the Marines might want to get out of the A Shau, only to escape me, didn’t seem plausible from everything I’d experienced. I knew that many of them carried superstition packets around their necks with some of my stuff in them. Superstition ran rampant, like gossip, in a field unit, and maybe in the rear areas too. It was only natural for the men to think my amazing survival from time to time, as opposed to the previous officers who’d come and gone so quickly, might have something to do with magic. That many of those officers had died at my Marines’ own hands seemed not to count. Fusner thought I’d somehow given the men some sort of hope of survival, and it seemed that the Gunny was ready to unwillingly go along with that in conducting the current operation while, at the same time, indicating that the men were more interested in getting away from me than anything else.
“Ready on the right,” the Gunny whispered.
I prepared myself to climb up, pull the pin on the M-33 and then toss it, but first I strapped myself into my pack. There would be no coming back to the hole once we began the attack. Just as I turned to climb up to the lip of the hole, the AN-323 radio kicked to life. There was no speaker for that radio but the small noise the tiny headset speaker made was very audible in the near silence and dead air down inside the hole.
“Cowboy rolling on in,” a small tinny voice said. “You got your ears up and ready for that Flash?”
I climbed back down and reached for the headset, pressing my right ear into the small speaker, as I did not want to remove my helmet and risk dropping it into the muddy water below. I squeezed the grenade in my left hand uncomfortably but wasn’t about to part with it.
“Flash standing by,” I said, pressing on the transmit button and hoping our position deep inside the hole wouldn’t block the signal. It didn’t.
“I’ll be five by five when you start your run,” Cowboy said. “I’m a lone soldier up here, orbiting and waiting out the dark, and for your signal. “I’ll make a hole for your Ontos right down the center. I know the area well. I’m loaded for bear with maximum ordnance for the effort. Is it Penny for Your Thoughts or Penny Lane?”
“Penny Lane,” I said back, astounded by how quickly and effectively something as seemingly slight and unimportant as a plan name could spread and be totally accepted. “There’s enough light to launch, Cowboy, and the line of departure will be about ten meters south of the flash from the grenade I’m about to toss from our hole.”
“That’s rich,” Cowboy laughed. “A flash from Flash. I’ll start my roll in from eight thousand and hopefully, singe the hair of the guys riding that Ontos into history and Valhalla. Out.”
I pushed the headset back at Fusner, now barely visible in the pre-dawn light. I climbed back up on the step and pulled the pin on the grenade with a bit of difficulty because of the slipperiness of the mud on my hands. The M-33 felt perfect in my right hand, the spoon pressed hard against the pool ball sized round surface of the body of the device. I stretched my arm back, like my Dad had taught me to do when trying to throw a football as far as I could, and then heaved the grenade back toward our own line so the flash would radiate out from the top of the mud in front of every Marine present.
I never saw the flash, as I’d dived back inside the hole when the grenade was still in the air. I heard the small ‘crump’ of its explosion seconds later. I unsnapped the holster flap covering the butt of Tex’s .45 and got ready to climb out of the hole. I was as ready for open combat as I would ever be.
“Wait one,” the Gunny cautioned. “Wait until we can hear the Ontos and then gauge its position. Everyone on our side is aiming out front of that thing and the last place we want to be is there.”
I tried to settle back, but my pack stuck out too far to allow me to force myself back into the crease in the corner of the hole. I stood, with feet spread to stay above the inches of muddy water in the bottom, like the Gunny, Fusner, and Nguyen. I had run through the enemy before, as I had run from him, but I had never charged forward in attack. Getting ready mentally for the effort was not what I thought it might be. I wasn’t nearly as afraid as I thought I should be. I was instead hoping. I was hoping that I would measure up as a Marine in combat and I was hoping my company would be able to do the same. For only the second time since being in Vietnam, in combat and down in the A Shau Valley, I was feeling like I thought a Marine was supposed to feel.
I felt the Ontos vibrate the walls of our hole and suddenly wanted to be out on the mudflat, no matter the risk. My fear of being buried alive in the mud was greater than that of being shot, even if that was to be by my own Marines. I vaulted up the step and over the lip of the hole. I felt the others following me. The Ontos was idling right in front of me, it’s left tread no more than a few feet from the hole. Zippo sat atop and just behind the layered armor of the thing, his teeth exposed by a huge grin, about the only thing fully visible about him. I heard Cowboy coming in the background but knew the shape of the valley was also radiating sound well ahead of the fierce lumbering beast of the air. But he was there and coming.
I ran to the back of the Ontos, the Gunny pulling up to my side and Fusner not far behind. Nguyen popped up from under the rear of the machine, having taken the easiest path by sliding right under the hull of the thing.
“Ready,” the Gunny yelled into the open rear doors of the Ontos. “Are you going inside?” he shouted in my ear with his hands cupped.
I looked up at the open doors of the beast. There was room. I made a quick decision, following my new feeling of being an actual leader of Marines.
“No, I’m staying with the men,” I yelled back.
“Then get two hundred meters back. When the 106s start to fire you have to be either under the thing, inside it, or a hell of a long way from the back-blast.”
I turned to look up the mild incline to where the company had been set in. Everyone was on the move, and most had M-60 machine guns carried with ammo belts held by assistant fire team leaders just aside or behind them. Sugar Daddy’s platoon I knew, because they were so difficult to make out in the bad light. The Marines of one platoon moved against the face of the cliff. I turned once more to watch Jurgen’s platoon heading down to the raging water’s edge.
“Move out,” the Gunny yelled, as I achieved a position far enough away from the Ontos, with Fusner and Nguyen by my sides.
The Gunny had stayed with the Ontos, squeezing into through the doors. I wondered if he’d done that to build me up more or whether he’d done it for security. The last part of that thought made me smile grimly. The Gunny didn’t do much at all for his own security.
He’d done it to make me feel like a Marine Officer and it was working.
Vibrations from excitement or Adrenalin , waiting for the next chapter, thanks LT.
Thanks Jim. Meeting in Santa Fe at the rendezvous. I will be on it in my hotel room though.
Semper fi, and thanks for the compliment.
Jim
Penny lane. Same as Col. Paul Cumberland in my tribute. Google his name
Read that, and thank you Dan.
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn it! I want to keep reading. I vividly remember the first time I ran into the face of enemy fire. My view of what was happening was never the same as that of a company commander who knew where all his pieces were on the board. It was that of a Marine Sgt who’s world was no larger than that of an infantry squad. Looking back I remember my biggest fear was getting one of my Marines killed. I know I was scared but my mind was keeping me occupied with all that being a squad leader entails. I remember running and no mater how near or far the cover I was running to was, it seemed like it took a lifetime to cross. When we finally cleared the Haj out, the silence scared me nearly as much as going into the attack. Just being there though. In the very spot those little bastards had been trying to kill me from. With all of my Marines without a scratch on em, all trying to catch their breath like me. I remember thinking that I had now proven my worth as a Marine like my Father before me in Vietnam. I had never been more proud of being a leader of Marines than I did at that moment. I’m sorry if I’m being long winded here. Your writing has a way of putting a person in the boots and under that helmet and when you’ve been there and done that the memories and feelings all come rushing back. Keep writing Marine!
thanks Vince. Your writing here is really something. Thanks for the straight from the heart stuff.
I don’t mean for vets to have awful memories brought back, although I also know that most don’t ever lose them.
The idea here is to have a place to share those memories and know that the kind of oh so personal jungle warfare was not performed alone.
A lot of the really awful stuff happened to others and nobody knew….like me….
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for writing your story. I have refereed to myself as a shadow warrior since my return home in 1970 after serving in the valley with the 101st. I I wouldn’t tell anyone that I served Vietnam because of the hate toward us vets. A shadow warrior is one who has experienced war and lives in it’s shadow, afraid to admit my participation in its horror and, yet proud to have served my country. We all carrie some guilt of surviving. I have enjoyed and can relate to all your segments and will purchase several copies to give to my family members. I will try to make to Santa Fe.
It would be great to meet you Gene. I think the nation harbors a great band of shadow warriors, as you describe them.
It seems natural when the revelations they might make, and have probably aid a price for making earlier on, are not accepted
or believable by a public that simply gets to enjoy the results and not participate in the carnage…
See you soon, I hope…
Semper fi,
Jim
“No, I’m staying with the Men”……at that moment..with that simple statement..you became what you had dreamed of becoming one day….”A Leader of Men”….Do you remember the giant Billboards that were placed next to our nations highways all across the country? Those pictures of a new Marine Corps Officer in Dress Blues with raised Saber in Salute…A Leader of Men….that was your dream..and up until this very moment..it has eluded you….but not any longer…you were branded with the hotest iron imaginable…it was burned into your soul and even the surety of impending death was not able to take it from you…The pure, singular thought that you were about to lead a charge into the face of death…probably the most powerful moment of your life..and no chance or time to recognize it…..just a “simple’ decision… Now go “get some’ Lt…..Semper Fi
Now that specific moment in the books is an interesting one to highlight and capture as vitally illustrative of my accomplishment. Was it really that deep, that comment? Did the Gunny get into the Ontos to illustrate and outline that time in hell, one of the very rare
moments where I truly felt like a Marine officer? Did he help me again in one of his weird almost ‘alien’ ways? I can’t be as definitive as you are here about that. I truly don’t know. I did not come home feeling like a leader of Marines, at any point of the odyssey. I sometimes wonder and imagine an old Marine Officer of high
rank up on his sofa at night reading the first TDHS volume and marking it up like I might if I hadn’t written it. Would that old Marine see the exploits the way you do or simply nod his head occasionally and smile at reading stuff that simply could not be true at all? I would never expect a medal from
the result of his reading, were he in a position to grant or approve one. I would expect that he or she might set the book aside and wonder. The wonder would be about whether he might think it worth it to let his Marines read the book and then respond, getting back to him orally, or in the field
should they got there, letting him know by their conduct. Would he know if he observed them closely? Would his Marines be better Marines by the reading?
Thanks for more of your baffling stuff Larry. You are a delight and a class act…
Semper fi, my brother….
Jim
Thank you LT from a vet that’s walked the valley. We know the hell we went through and I thank you so much for telling it, so others will become aware. Love your writting, looking forward to the third book. I know that this has to be rough on you but hopefully help full too. Thank you again bring back memories which can be good to get them out. God Bless and keep going.
thanks a lot Richard. Santa Fe rendezvous is just up ahead….like the proverbial signpost up ahead. Hope you make it to that special event!!!
semper fi,
Jim
“The Marine Corps delivered in a broken sort of tattered leadership way but delivered. The Army delivered in the following role, but also effectively delivered.” The membership of our PTSD group is comprised of Army, Seabees, and Marines. We all served in various capacities. Our acknowledged leader is a Marine. (not was, right?) Three other marines were corpsmen. For sure, we Army vets take a lot of guff from the Marines, from challenges to jokes about what it is like to NOT be a Marine. If the shit ever comes down on this group I know who I will look to for leadership and support. We are all brothers.
By ‘following’ I meant for our unit not in the war. Remember that i fought in a very small place. Have nothing, nothing, but admiration for the Army and all the
care and help they showered down upon us to get by. I Would not be here without the Army!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Wonderful chapter, great read and so real to what it was. Even thou I was there (army infantry ) like you for one month. it will be with me forever, kind of weird for me it did not bother to much till I had bladder cancer in my late 50, but since then more, maybe because I was again looking at my possible death up close . Although thru God and two wonderful surgeons, I am still here over 10 years later. I think the internet and all the info about war and everyone is a hero. not sure what others think, but for me that is a sore spot, we know that is not the case, mostly in war and in life we do what we have to survive. Of coarse there are the rare cases of heroism. But just because I severed and I was in battle does not make me hero. Sorry for the rant. Don
Mostly, Don, I do not read ‘rants’ on here. I read expressions written from the heart that might not appear anywhere else. This is kind of a safe zone
for discussing the undiscussable. Thanks for your own perspective and your own experiences. I am not certain why the memories of that war haunt so deeply
and remain so imbedded inside our minds. The intensity has something to do with it, I am certain. Anyway, thanks for writing what you went through and
are going through to this day.
Semper fi,
Jim
“… why the memories of that war haunt so deeply and remain so imbedded inside our minds.” For some understanding I suggest “The Body Keeps the Score – Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma” by Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D. He is a psychiatrist who has pioneered novel techniques for healing. He has little regard for pills or talk. At one point he worked for the VA but gave up in disgust.
This chapter and the comments are particularly moving.
Many thanks. Blessings & Be Well to all.
Thanks Dan, means a lot to me, those kind words of support…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, The writing of your experience, your voice for those unable to speak of theirs, for those who’ve never experienced & for those who’ve thought this was ancient history – Thank you. I come from a later time in the Army, just outside this window of Hell. What experience I do have tells me your book should be required reading, not just for all the Academies, but for every ROTC program, for aspiring Officers, NCOs & Enlisted. And for every politician – those that will send America’s young men & women to the river Acheron & Charon’s ferry. Most sincere regards, Doug
Well, I get some compliments Doug, but not usually anything like the length and breath that you have gone through here.
Thank you so much. You can see stuff I cannot from the inside. I just write the story as best I can and have no real idea what the response is going to be like on here, even though
what the comments say on here mean so much to me. i keep going, as best as I can. Trying to use J, one of the vets as my spirit guide. he’s dying and I am trying to not only give
him something to take his mind off of that but also so he can get the end of the Vietnam part of the story before the event occurs.
Thanks so much for writing this…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, Seems to me that J is lucky to have you as a friend. Just sayin’. Doug
Thanks Doug. The modern age. We can be pretty close friends with someone we’ve never met or are likely to meet.
J is definitely one of those. He yells at me upon occasion but it is always from the depths of his giant heart.
Thanks for noticing…
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
Thanks for the kind words about the Army helicopter pilots. I flew with the Black Widows Helicopter Assault company, 101st, (1969) and made several flights into the Ashau Valley and across it. We had a great group of guys who were always “willing to give it a try”.
Yes, in the last segment I wrote about some disgruntlement with chopper support in some of the men’s minds.
Never forget how much we all longed to leap into the air with you….going up to where it was supposedly cool, and then back to imagined
hot food, a cot, sleep and air conditioning. There comes resentment from time to time, until you come to give us what we needed and the pick us up
when we are broken and dying without your help. The Army choppers performed flawlessly, as did the Marines…in reality.
Semper fi
Jim
The chopper pilots and medevacs, were the unsung heroes of the Vietnam War, without a doubt!
Yes, there were truly overlooked when it came to decorations and honoring… Hope you are okay J
and I know you won’t be in Santa fe. Will be thinking of you there and here too… Thanks and God bless my friend,
semper fi,
Jim
Yes, I am still hanging in there by a thread and thanks for asking about my situation. Having to rely heavily on pain meds now, so won’t be too long. There is something to be said about the waiting, rather then going quickly, but I guess there is a reason for everything.
Would love to be with my comrades in Santa fe, but just not possible these days. The closest I get to that situation, is reading your book and the comments that follow. Hey, I can still relate!
My thoughts are with all of you and blessings as well. Remember Jim, old soldiers never die, they just fade away.
What am I to do when you go silent? What are those of us to do when there’s no little ‘click’ of the radio button to let us know you are still with us?
I write on, of course, but, as with the twists and turns I stored up so effectively and held to my center of being for so many years, I don’t want to do it.
I know I must. For me, for you and for the guys…and gals on here….I hate the selfishness of thinking about it. How badly I will miss you and not feel so sorry for you passing, as sorry for me living on without you here to
badger me, to irritate me, to rush me along….with care. Thanks for being with me through most of the trip…and thanks for coming on with your special voice to accompany along the way, like
the Gunny.
Semper fi,
Jim
I did not expect you in Santa fe, but then…I never expected anybody to be here for the rest of the trip either!
Yes the BLACK WIDOWS. They flew us in and out. What a bunch. Flying on their noses most of time.
thanks for the comment RT
Semper fi,
Jim
James… I was hooked by the time I finished the first Paragraph. Although I was an Innocent Bystander, Gulf Of Tonkin Yacht Club (USS Kittyhawk) from 1970 til 1973…our squadron lost 2 planes and 4 aircrew during the summer of ’72 and I buried my Best buddy from High School in June of 69 I still was spit on and called a babykiller when I got off the plane coming home. I’m still not sure how I feel about it all… BUT…reading “30 Days” is perhaps helping me put it all in perspective… Thank You. I bought books 1 and 2 and I am awaiting book3.
Thanks Truman for buying the books. Helps me, because putting the work up for free for some of the vets is important. If I was really making money then it might look like I was making stuff
up for money, and I’m not. I’m being quite successful at going broke publishing these books!!! Anyway, I am sorry that so many vets got that treatment. Usually, the prejudice was not that
obvious. Small things. Looks, sneers, raised eyebrows, distancing at cocktail parties and more. Today is considerably different but don’t ever forget that so many men think the current president,
who avoided Vietnam, is as great as, or greater, than McCain who went, served and was courageous in combat and then after. Most men have never gone to war, much less engaged in real combat, and so
there is that residual resentment inside of them that is almost impossible for the guys who went to understand.
Semper fi,
Jim
The writing is first rate, giving the sensation that you can see the events happening. I have books one and two of the series. Is there a date for book three yet?
Writing Book 3 as we go…the Twenty-Fourth Day was just put up. Six more days and nights to go before the third book is ready, and then one huge book that
holds all there volumes…Thanks for buying the books, as that helps me along.
Semper fi, and also thanks for the compliment…
Jim
where can I get theze books ? I have tried to keep up since I enconteted them, but know i have missed some. I was in the 1st Cav at camp Evans in 68 as a Huey mechanic. You make it very real as if i was by your side.
Sp5/E5 Us Army 67 70 1st Cav Vietnam Sept.67 to April 69
The books are available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Thirty Days Has September, The First Ten Days and the Second Ten Days. The Third Ten Days probably won’t
be done until December. You can also buy books from the site by ordering autographed and personally inscribed versions which cost more.
Thanks for your interest and your compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
James – I’ve been a follower since day 1 and am enthralled by your story. I know I’ve told you that I too am a Marine Vietnam vet (66-67) and was a “grunt” (0331) like you, although you endured more hell in 30 days than I did in 10 months! We all certainly had our “moments” though. Anyway this is more of a “housekeeping” question and I apologize if you have already explained this and I somehow didn’t pick it up, but are the names of the men that you use their real names or have you changed them for a lot of reasons I can think of. I’m just curious. I truly hope we meet one day while still on this earth………I have a thousand questions and a thousand thoughts about Vietnam that are way too long for this venue. Most of those have no answers but it’s always interesting to hear the thoughts of another vet.
Semper fi my brother………..
Thanks for the great compliment of a comment Gary! I must use different names and sometimes even different places for what happened.
I do not want to spend my time left in court or worse because some survivors of the guys, and some of the surviving guys themselves, might feel violated
or worse by the revelations. Thanks for the question. There is a certain protection that fiction offers and I am taking it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve got to say I love reading the gut flowing raw comments of the people who read this story. The true feelings and emotions are as realistic as it gets in understanding what these men went thru. Only this story and format could possibly allow for such true and understanding of the hell of Vietnam.
The comments are the most special part of this whole odyssey and literary adventure. Except they make it more than a literary adventure.
They make it a reality. They bring us all back and remind us that it’s not over. We are still vital and our memories necessary and passing not those
memories not necessarily needed to today but the future is long and the road into and along it hard. Thanks for the great deep comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
Your 30 days out in the field are coming to a end, im going to miss reading this.
Well, there will be the book about coming home and then my service to the Nixon administration in San Clemente after that. I am not sure
whether that will do but what the hell, and thanks for regretting the coming finish…
Semper fi,
Jim
Then I will buy that book as well. You are a gifted writer James.
And you are a wonderful supporter Chuck. Always love to read what you write.
Semper fi, and thanks from the depths….
Jim
Thank you Sir! Semper fi
thanks for writing that on here David. Much appreciated this morning…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
I’m so glad that lightning bolt hit you in ’85 that restored your detailed memory!
A restorative Touch From God, I believe, so that He could use you for the incredible good you are bringing to so many. Well done indeed!!!
Life is so strange through most of its run, or at least it has been so for me.
When I was initially recovering from the strike at the ER I could not even remember my own name and I was furious that people kept asking me.
It took frightful days for memory to return but then when it did it came back like the early days of my childhood. Everything, everywhere and in such staggering detail.
Like Travolta in that movie. Could not move pencils across a desk or predict earthquakes though!
Anyway, thanks for the comment and support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well…excellent read again James…this has to be the best yet..and like others…I spend time reading the comments over sometimes too…I said months ago, and I still believe, what you are doing here writing this truth of war is like holding church. You see that in the responses from Vets and non-vets alike. Some of us with little or no combat experience stand in the back with our guilt of not having done more while many come to the alter of truth and bare their souls and feel some relief of being here among brothers that have the same experiences…but whether at the alter or not we all “worship” in our own way. Thanks from this old Army guy for telling your story. Although I anxiously wait for each segment, in some ways I hate to see it come to an end…
copied and put this on the Facebook page where I publish and boost the segment. A lot of guys come from there to here
to read the story. Your comment is concise and brings right to the front why so many come. A church. I am sort of writing the bible
and they are reading, as the apostles would read, and then confirming whether the writings have validity, credibility and truth in them.
And then we all commune…now that was some comment and I am left thinking pretty deeply…
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
The wait for this chapter (as always) was certainly well worth it.
Thank you most sincerely, Bob. I work away at it and am constantly amazed at the depth the story reaches, especially among the
combat vets. Don’t know what to say…
Semper fi,
Jim
When is the third book coming out?
Hoping to finish with the first three volumes by Christmas! Thanks for asking…
Semper fi,
Jim
The decision to attack brings up old memories from 1967 when B & C Companies were ordered to attack a dug in battalion of VC across 300 meters of open rice paddies, that gut wrenching feeling of knowing we had to go over the top of them. I was a medic, worst day of my life. But, I haven’t had a bad day since.
Really cool comment here, David. Thanks for your own experience added to what everyone else is offering.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’m finding a bit of difficulty, deciding how best put the words here. The 57th Eng.CO. that was with first we came up with a program to help ease the loneliness , and other tensions it was a bit of a mentor ,mostly it was damn good BS get together. one time this SP5 and I got to talking lasted awhile I could see how he was being at ease with the world, all of sudden he looks at me and apologize for what he told me, he was scared , I told him it was alright because he cleared out some ghost he was hiding and he felt so much better.
Glad you are putting the words together here Bill. Thanks for sharing that.
So many guys don’t manage to get to the point of being able to share anything of it.
We are with you…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT. excellent. I have been reading along for many months now. I know I didnt start at the first, but I was locked in the moment I started. Obviously, I will be getting your books. You are such a good writer! Thanks,
Thanks a lot Stevie. Compliments like what you wrote den’t seem like might have much effect but they do.
I read every comment made on this site and on Facebook too. It’s part of writing it, now.
And I never fail to write anyone who writes me. You are welcome for the work.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for writing this. It can’t be easy for you, but you are doing a good work.
I’ve kind of gotten used to managing the emotions while I work my way through each segment.
Chuck helps me a lot, and life itself. Thanks for caring enough to write about it here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Like your statement on PTSD very much!!
Just trying to describe how it seems to work with me. You cannot ever forget something as starkly real as
the reality you might live through. You cannot deny it or get rid of the memory. You have to adjust to it no
matter how uncomfortable what it is that caused it is. You learned. You can use that learning…maybe…in your future.
That is what you brain is changing for and you must accommodate that change…
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
Still feel guilty I did not go to VN and probably would not have made it home. Lost 3 classmates there. I can see why the comments come.
Those of us who went into actual combat did so with blinders on.
We did not know what we were going into or we most very probably would have found some
place else to be. If you have had the good fortune to not add those items of post traumatic effect inducing
crap to your memory banks then those of us who have them, and understand them, tip out hats to you and smile.
We did the job to save ourselves from death and to save you from having to save yourself from death.
Our broken tattered pleasure…
Semper fi,
Jim
As compelling a chapter as any you’ve penned thus far Lt., well done!!
With one glaring, gut-wrenching, difference! The exchange… between Fusner and the Gunny! Made the hairs on my neck stand up so quick, I about feinted! Over the course of my now advancing years, and with specific reference to my work in diagnostic medicine, I’ve learned to pay attention to the smallest bits of information provided and then let my gut tell the truth my eyes and ears would otherwise overrule! I’ve come to feel like I once knew the Gunny, and to me… he gave Fusner a ration because everything the kid said…was true. Fusner’s wistful review of Junior spoke from ” the gut” and the Gunny simply tried to save the kid from his own truth. If this is not the essence of a man’s love for another man…when they both know, (without knowing how they know), one or the other is about to be gutted and hung out to bleed…then my brother should never have given me his wings… I’m not psychic Lt! But if I didn’t let you know what my gut says… you’d probably think I was. The fact-is all I’ve ever wanted to be is a fairly proficient radio-man. Which is, the one thing my marine father allowed, he’d seen me as! I hope your radio-man…listened as well, I really do! I need to go wash up…got some mud, in my eyes…
Semper fi,
DDH
I pout this review on my Facebook Author’s page it is do well written and so well intended.
The interpretations made and the analysis performed on the totality of the work is incredible.
What a wonderful writer and man…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I’ve waited a few days to thank you for the honor your surprising, quite honestly, humbling response to this reader’s comments would bestow! I obviously shared this chapter with my friends and on my page, and did so as my way of saying “thank you” personally to all vets for “everything you’ve done…all of it, for us”!
To you Jim, because I believe it will be through this story, since there are no others quite like it, that have the potential to heal us all as people, and bring our family together, again. Personally, I believe THIRTY DAYS HAS SEPTEMBER is a seminal work in rehabilitating our country’s remembrance of Vietnam. More importantly, to that of healing our remembrance and treatment of our Vietnam veterans who really, with very few exceptions, gave “all they had” to ensure that what’s remembered of that hellish time honors our heart as a “people prepared” to fight and defend our homeland. That it manages to do this Lt. Strauss, despite the wrongheadedness involved in and around the leadership of a nation in that time , is something all veterans, their families, and perhaps even history itself, stands to benefit by reiterating that having the freedom to choose whether to take a knee in protest, is against our ideals as “a people”, or not. For knowing the difference between loving your family(patriots) before that of an authority’s(duty)unilateral decision to put family in harm’s way without regard to country or honor, and only then presenting ” an incomplete history” in which patriotism was squandered in support of a fiction! I believe this story will complete the history of Vietnam by completing our understanding of the true costs of war.
I look forward to ordering your current book(s) special come the first of September and then…hopefully, picking it up in person in Santa Fe, NM. Where I can get your John Hancock in person, sir! Thank you again, Semper fi
As usual, you have laid down words in a big paragraph that I cannot take in all at once. I can read it through but then have to keep going back.
Y
Morning Jim, Yes, the days of legend and lore, You call and we deliver, We took pride in making it happen for you guys, The only problem is that higher higher some times gave orders we could not stand, To not delver needed supplies for troops in contact, and all we could do was fume. Now for you a song that Brother John should have been playing…..
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rawhide!
Hah! Hah!
Keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them dogies rollin’, rawhide
Through rain and wind and weather
Hell bent for leather
Wishin’ my gal was by my side
All the things I’m missin’
Good vittles, love, and kissin’
Are waiting at the end of my ride
Move ’em out, head ’em up
Head ’em up, move ’em on
Move ’em out, head ’em up:
Rawhide
Cut ’em out, ride ’em in
Ride ’em in, cut ’em out
Cut ’em out, ride ’em in:
Rawhide!
Hah! Hah!
Ads by ZINC
Keep movin’, movin’, movin’
Though they’re disapprovin’
Keep them dogies movin’, rawhide
Don’t try to understand ’em
Just rope an’ throw an’ brand ’em
Soon we’ll be living high and wide
My heart’s calculatin’
My true love will be waitin’:
Be waitin’ at the end of my ride
Move ’em out, head ’em up
Head ’em up, move ’em on
Move ’em out, head ’em up:
Rawhide
Cut ’em out, ride ’em in
Ride ’em in, cut ’em out
Cut ’em out, ride ’em in:
Rawhide!
(Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’.)
(Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’.)
Hah!
(Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’.)
Hah!
(Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’.)
Rawhide
Hah!
Rawhide!
Exactly!!! Thanks for all the lyrics. I’ve never seen them put down in one place.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, once again your writing stirs me. So very many of us came home without perforations in our bodies, but seem to have left our souls behind. Thanks to your words and writing abilities, I seem to once again be complete.
Thank you for writing what has got to be difficult words.
Semper Fi, brother.
You can’t beat this kind of writing when it comes to complimenting someone’s work. Thanks so much Craig and I put this up on my Facebook page because it was
deeply descriptive…
Semper fi,
Jim
“They’re going after Kilo but they don’t want us to know,” he went on. “They want us to cower here waiting for relief. Hill 975 forces are going to take Lima apart, the NVA regiment in the bush here is going to make mincemeat of Kilo, and then they’ll both take their sweet time in mopping us up in a [pincher] movement when they’re done with Lima and Kilo.”
I believe that the spelling is: ‘pincer’
Thanks, Tom.
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I was talking to a friend of 30 years, a Marine. I said I have known you for a long time and I still don’t know where you were or anything about you in VN, ’67-’68. He said “What can I say, nothing can be said”. The same for this segment!
Well Mike S, we don’t even know your last name….so there is unknown on both sides of the books.
I was in Basic Class 5/68 and I was in the A Shau in 1968. I can’t stay too hidden with just that data.
Thanks for the compliment about the segment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I check your site daily, sometimes two and three times, to see if you have posted another update. Once found, everything else is dropped to read the most recent submission. Never disappointed, and as usual, left dangling in suspense again. I didn’t have any Lieutenants over there who had the ability to read the field as you did. You were a reluctant hero rushing to the rescue of Kilo company once again, albeit without much of an alternative. I am intrigued over the gunny’s statements on how the troops felt about you, look forward to further explanation in future submissions. I think it’s pretty clear that he liked you, notwithstanding your past questioning of his motivations and inclinations. You were lucky to have each other. Hope he made it home. You’re a damn good writer, sir. I know it is getting more difficult as you near the end of your time there and you are questioning yourself, your decisions, and your surviving. Totally natural. No one here judging you at all. Forget about what RASH thought of you. When those Marines stepped forward when you threw that signal grenade, that says a world about what they thought about you. Looking forward to the next installment.
You know Marshall, that I will not write about what is going to happen before it happens in the story, but much appreciate
the length, depth and real meaning in your comment. Thanks for the compliment about reading the field. Most Marines never get into combat and those
that do who survive it in one piece are, of course, damned rare, so evaluating young officers under fire might be a bit uncommon.
Thanks for liking the work and doing such a great job in writing about it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
A other nail biting chapter LT.
I’m as giddy as a school boy when I see you have a new chapter posted.
I have to force myself to read it slowly and savor every word.
It makes this old canal zone soldier glad I missed the Nam although my pops was there. He was a Navy combat medic. He made it back but I think he left the best part of him there in the jungle.
Keep up the good work.
A lot of guys just could not come home.
I had a wife, child and a small California town waiting, and a series of great hospitals…
and I had so many Marines I felt I had to live my life for.
That carried me for a bit until the burden was too great.
My collapse came and then the family, friends, and town pulled me up out of the muck.
Chuck Bartok was part of that and he’s with me today.
So many don’t have those things even if they live after such combat and I feel terrible about that.
One day society well get better in helping but so far it’s just not there yet…
Semper fi,
Jim
I shake the hand of every Vet I see with a hat on and listen to their stories if they are so inclined. My dad was a four year South Pacific Vet. Never talked about it much. This one of the best accounts I have ever read. I will be sorry/and thrilled at the same time to read the last installment.
thanks Phillip. Means a lot to have you out there shaking hands and thinking great thoughts about vets.
I like your analysis as this plays out too…
Semper fi,
Jim
It was the uncertainty, the unknowing, the fear of not measuring up, the unpalatable idea of failing our Corps. It seems much clearer now, Strauss, but we’re now in our 70’s. Do you ever stop to think how long ago it was when we had just stumbled our way into our 20’s? How little we knew? How much we depended on what others knew to keep us alive? We’re damn near old men, and those feelings are still as raw as the shinbone scraped bare on whatever rock-hard object took us to ground. I walked over to the nearest fence and puked with relief when I got bumped from the tail-dragger that was taking us from Okinawa to Nam. I didn’t even know for sure where I was going, I just knew I was a totally-not-ready-second lieutenant. From there to your shit-hole in the A Shau, none of us felt ready. You’ve lived several lifetimes in those almost thirty days. Fate had other plans for me and saved me from your Hell. My admiration and gratitude for your survival has 50 years of push behind it. Semper Fidelis. (the 1972 in my email address is the year I got out of the Corps)
I am so glad that the taildragger left without you!
You are here and among us and that makes me smile. You are also such thinking and feeling class act.
Reading your comment here is so in line with what so many other veterans have said,
but a bit better worded and laced with your own life experience.
Not too many men or women have heard that real war story about the puking.
Not heroic but oh so real and oh so timely.
Thanks for the support and the many wonderful comments you have made while I have gone through this literary adventure….
and thanks for your friendship which I
feel although we’ve never met…
Semper fi, my friend…
Jim
AN old saying pops into mind.. “Bearding the Lion in his Den” You go get them L.T.
Thanks for the apropos comment My friend…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim as always this chapter was outstanding and had me on the edge of my seat. I was at TSN until a day an a half day before Saigon fell. We had sporadic small arms fire and 120mm rocket’s but I can’t even fathom what you had to endure. Like you I stand whenever I hear the Marine Corps Hymn and still have chills go up and down my spine. Jim, I salute you for what you did. Semper Fi
Thanks Chuck, for that write up entwined with some of your own experience. The A Shau was a nightmare and I wish it on no man.
Those that entered that valley did not come back, either alive or as the same human who had gone in. The Gunny was right about that.
Thanks for what you have written here and thanks for the support I’ve read in comments made in the past. You keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
What a freaking ride this has been LT. I check the site, sometimes a couple times a day, looking to see if a new chapter was posted. And while the sight of a new one brings me much excitement, I know that the end is eventually going to come. Thanks for sharing your story with us Sir.
You are most welcome Mike and I shall endeavor to get the next one out in a week. If I am going to finish by Christmas I must get on it…
Semper fi, my friend, and thank you…
Jim
The AVTT Traveling Vietnam Wall is in Sauk Centre, MN this weekend and I am going to spend some time just sitting and staring and praying
Well, Mike, I don’t know what to write, except you won’t be there alone. There are a lot of us that will be there just over your shoulder but not quite out of your imagined sight.
Think about all of us who made it and how much the guys who fell over there or along the way would be celebrating out continued survival with some success.
You are uniquely gifted and talented to be one of the rare humans who knows…knows shit the people passing by at the monument, for the most part, will not.
You know for them and the responsibility and burden is great. The reward is to be one of us…
Semper fi,
Jim
You made my chest hurt.
Well, that’s because you have such a big heart behind it!!! Send me your address, as I have something special for you that I will send.
And no, it’s not a “T” shirt!!!
Your friend,
and Semper fi,
Jim
108 Brown Ave
Fairborn Oh 45324
One thing I felt in Kansas was safe. I feel that here, too. Gullible, naive? Nah, got the Marine Corps watchin my 6!
BTW, att e-mail sucks, use joyandwalt@aol.com
You are safe here and in Kansas and in Santa Fe and wherever those of who know are gathered or thinking about you.
Package is on the way, my friend….
Semper fi,
Jim
Another fine chapter …
Ready for the next one .
This is awesome
Brenda. Don’t get many females commenting so I really appreciate you coming aboard. And the awesome compliment didn ‘t just blow by me either.
Thank you so sincerely, as having some women read and comprehend is vital to the effort in getting a message out about what we are sending our kids off into.
Semper fi,
Jim
When does the third ten days come out I want to buy it I read the other two. My wife can’t wait either,
The last ten days will not come out until I am finished writing the segments to it.
The first two books are out and then the third will probably take until Christmas. Not like writing regular
books at all…as you can read here….
My 15,834 written comment reply since this all started two years ago…and my pleasure.
Semper fi,
Jim
Holy shit you are killing me stopping so soon I need more! Absolutely love it!
Well, I have to come up for air every once and awhile…
and also, life does not stop at this end.
I don’t have any assistants or ghostwriters to do my bidding.
It’s just all raw and right at you…
Semper fi, and thanks for the comment…
Jim
I’m not a Vet, but both of my older brothers served in Vietnam. One a helicopter door gunner, the other an ARMY engineer. For 2 1/2 years we waited, hoped and prayed for their safe return. Our cousin died there in ’67. His mother never got over the loss! (They weren’t Marines, but enemy bullets and boobytraps don’t care!). Thank you for your story. It makes their emotional scars much more understandable!
Putting to bed some old wounds means a lot to me. If you actually know what the guys ran into then you can better understand why some of the vets, so many, will not say
a word and it seems like they are keeping everyone out. Actually, they are protecting you from knowing what they have come to know and you won’t be able to believe.
They will just end up farther out there by telling you. So I am doing it for them. If you read the books and haven’t gone to war but plan to, than this is a primer. If you
went and made in then it is a handbook to give to those you love and say:”here, this is what it was all about.” They will read and have an idea about the living hell
you endured and it will be better….
Semper fi,
Jim
again on the edge of my seat James,.. I’m hoping for an entire case of whoopass cans to be opened!! looks to me like it’s headed that way
thanks Dennis, here it comes, the next segment of a lot of action….
Semper fi,
Jim
James, sitting here thinking about our times in country, never had a frontal assault in our duty assignment, that was left to you guys, being out there laying in wait was a hell of a lot different than having the balls to jump up into a field of fire, am thinking about my dad and uncles engaged in the pacific doing that against the Japanese, God what a set they and your team had to go against the desire to survive and get the job done. I love the night, being a small team that’s able to slip away was our modus operandi, great read LT
You silent night guys did great work out there, Felix. Prevented a world of ambushes and took your own measure of booby traps.
Thanks for being that person of the night and thanks for being able to write about it here. Special…
Semper fi,
Jim
“They won’t come into a hot LZ where they’ve taken casualties,” the Gunny replied,…
I have to take exception to that comment. I’m sure it may have seemed that way at times, but if it were true the numbers on “The Wall” would be double what they are.
Of course I was but a peon in the grand scheme of things, but I can assure you that during my time there, we went to where we were called, bearing in mind the chain of command may have had some say before we got the call.
At any rate, great chapter Lt., now go kick some ass!!
SEMPER Fi
The A Shau was a microcosm Sgt.
It was our part of the A Shau and it was a huge very small place and also a place in time.
I am writing about what we believed and what the men stated at the time to be the case.
I am not indicting Marine chopper units. How could I?
Some were absolutely astounding, like the guys who flew those birds into a hot LZ by the river at night.
But there were different feelings about support when you could not get it,
and that happened all the time, and you almost (in the field) ever got a rational explanation of why could not
get resupply or Cobra support. The same was sometimes true of artillery.
Sorry, this chapter appears to blindside Marine chopper pilots but I was not sugar coating anything here.
The guys in the combat areas both loved the supporting forces intently or they’hated them fiercely
and something both at the same time. The air people and the artillery forces at fireballs and the rear area guys did so much better in having comfort and much less minute by minute danger.
I have written that you cannot remain a sane human for long under intense combat.
You are reading about a bunch of crazy bastards wearing tattered Marine uniforms.
I apologize to all chopper pilots and I know most understand.
They had to divide themselves up where most needed and then stay alive to help us stay alive.
Thank you!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
LT I hear what you are saying. I experienced several “Hot LZ” extracts. Hanging underneath the bird on a SPIE rig watching the ground open up like some kind of malevolent christmas tree. Then there was the trip to LZ Ross. I had transferred to 1ST Med and we were waiting for a team to come in out of the bush. When they came in the bird fell the last ten feet out of the air but the team made it safe. The pilot had put the bird into an LZ that was too small for the rotor span, picked up the team and made it back to LZ Ross. My boss and I flew back to DaNang with the rotors and the last foot of the trailing edge of each of them looked like spaghetti. I still remember the call sign of the bird “Purple Fox” As I said before, we were in the same Viet Nam but our wars were very different As the others have said I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the next section. OOH RAA Kick ass and take names.
God but what those guys could do with those choppers.
They said that the chopper that plucked me out took 43 rounds on the way up to altitude and that was
some sort of record, but we made it.
There was no end of honor and unspoken and unrecognized heroics going on when it came to
getting the wounded plucked out of there and off to that terrific team at 1st Med…
where I went and they saved me…
Semper fi,
Jim
Terry,
The Ch-46 squadron called Purple Fox was HMM-364. Their radio call sign was Swift. I was the Crew Chief of YK 2 for 1969. Had many great pilots under the command of Eugene Brady. Many of the squadron live forever on the wall.
There is no question about that. Some guys on here think that, in this last segment, that I was putting down the chopper support we got.
There was differential support, as there will always be in combat situations. I loved the choppers and the men who flew in to help us but
sometimes, just sometimes, their conduct would piss off the men, and me, for reasons that might not have made sense then or even now.
It was combat…
Semper fi,
Jim
Larry, I was with HMM-364 Purple Foxes during 69/70. 50 cal gunner mostly, but once in awhile tail gunner with a M60 on the end of the loading ramp. Got knocked off the ramp once pulling a team of recon Marines off the side of a hill. We lost the ends of our aft rotor blades to the trees, and I got pinned and dragged up the tree. It was a bit rough, but we made it out of the LZ okay. I don’t recall who was crew chief on that mission. Just want to say thanks to the Pilots and the Marines that pulled me back in the chopper by my gunners belt once we got air born. Semper Fi!
Rich Bicknell
thanks for the life experience here Richard. We really appreciate hearing about what happened in so many situations over there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Lt. The Corps was quite limited in available (not shot up)aircraft and often had priorities set by those above which may not have been the case as understood by those on the ground. Thanks for your understanding comment, and as you know – “you call we haul” was our code for you poor bastards in the mud.
I certainly never meant to take a shot at the wonderful invention and then the even more wonderful men who flew the things to allow so many of us to live.
My own survival was 100 percent because of rapid evacuation to 1st Med. I simply would not be here without those ships and men. The story plays out and
I don’t write it trying to protect or curry favor with any group. It never occurs to me when I am laying it down. When I re-read this one, and got some of the criticism
for the seeming slap, I almost changed the segment retroactively but then didn’t. I am trying to post as close to how it plays back as possible and the thoughts and
moves by men under such conditions is not always admirable, truthful or logical. Thanks for pointing out the things you have.
Semper fi,
Jim
In the hopes of easing the impact of the comment about the difference of responses from the Army and Marine choppers…In almost two years with Lima 3/5, out there alongside Jim’s India Co.. We knew that the Marine Helicoptor squadrons were very small in comparison to the army units..All of the Marine pilots were usually 23-30 years old..There were no replacement choppers, or pilots, and always a shortage of parts…but they flew, anytime they could get into the air…they flew.. on the other hand..the army pilots for the most part were 19-20 year old warrant officers flying these fast moving, highly manuverable Hueys…and with giant brass balls, (the mind set of ‘invincibility” that 19 year olds are famous for) they would fly any time, knowing that if their ship went down..there would most likely be another one to jump into when they got back..it wasn’t a matter of the Marine Pilots not showing up because they didn’t want to….it was because there just weren’t any choppers to fly…and it really pissed them off when they had to listen to the calls for help and couldn’t do anything about it…The Army birds would come…and to those of us on the ground, it didn’t matter what color or shape the bird was…it was bringing us ammo…and water…nothing much else mattered…..many of our wounded died there on the jungle floor because of no birds…the Marines did not have any ‘dust offs’ as the army did…no birds marked with a giant Red Cross..None dedicated as Medevacs……not a single one….we never had any idea what kind of chopper was coming to pull our wounded out…an old CH 34 Choctaw, or the CH 46…and rarely the Giant Sea Stallion…we never knew…and many times, the emergency medevac call was downgraded or cancelled after waiting 6-8 hours because the status was changed to KIA…. and then other days we would see the sky blacken with Army hueys going somewhere ……it was just ‘different’ we took anything that was given to us with gracious, open arms..we were happy to see each of you coming to us from the skies…Semper Fi
Well shit. I sit here re-reading what you wrote again, Larry. You guys up in the air. In fast movers and in the slower
barely moving targets of such size. How any of you came back is astounding. Not that I knew that then.
The Gunny was the one who thought that higher ranking Marine Officers were not likely to fly under dangerous circumstance because of fear. Being short. Being in positions where calling off a mission
was pretty easy (from our standpoint on the ground). When the choppers came, the men cheered unless conditions were so tortured they could not. You came to get me and the chopper was over-filled and our hydraulics were
shot. But you came to get me and I have never forgotten that. You did not drop me along the way. Nobody would have known. Just me for a few seconds. But you kept me. Was that a good thing or a bad thing or did it matter?
It is my distinct honor and pleasure to have you on here writing away. I much appreciate that and look for your name on here all the time. I did not know you but I kind of did.
That same stupid flat smile, and arrogant quick quick work ethic. The speed of your causality.. so vital to all of our survival, time after time after time. I still here those blades beating….and wonder if you do too.
Thanks for making it back to be on here with me….
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
best book I have read in years
I cannot thank you enough Don. I am hard at continuing to the bitter end and then writing about the experience of coming home.
Semper fi, and thanks for the great compliment…
Jim
Agree
Thanks for that agreement to a great comment Robert!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Don’t know which affects me more
Your story or your replies that tell about your feelings as you write about those memories
God Bless You
R Owe
68-69
IV Corps
Yes, Ronald, the dialogue on here is special. I think it is more special than the writing of the story, although the two are so closely tied together it is hard to
distinguish. Thanks for pointing that out. The comments here effect all of us who read them. My replies are not prepared. I just write back straight from the shoulder
right here and right now like I am doing with you. Thanks for writing what you wrote and caring so much…
Semper fi,
Jim
Minor comment (I made an overview map from 4 of the 1:50,000 contour maps of the era: 6441 I-IV and have been trying to track your ordeal). During Gunny’s first sentence of his ‘speech’: “Lima’s coming in from the south and they’re going to take it right in the side from Hill 975,”
Lima’s coming back down from the north, right?
Lima’s headed south down the valley and must pass Hill 975 on its right flank. You will recall we never were able to
take that hill, although encountered it several times. A hill of tunnels and underground bunkers loaded with NVA.
That’s the situation for them coming down along the western side of the Bong Song…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Talked to him, sir. He’s coming at first light,” Fusner got out, shaking his angle to loosen my grip.” Should it be “shaking his ankle to loosen my grip”?
Take it EZ…
Yes, and thank you so much Tony, you and the others that edit this work for free and then so openly publish those edits to help us all…
Semper fi,
Jim
James another great chapter. You are a master at keeping our interest. Thanks.
Thanks Bud, the reality of the story grabs me too. Never seen it written about true combat, really. But there it was and here it is.
Glad I can write. Glad I can still remember. Glad you are here to help me along…
Semper fi,
Jim
The reality of this story, is what makes it the best works you have ever done, from what I have seen thus far. Proof of that reality, is the fact that you have to escape the pressure of recording the next events every now and then, and the after effects after you have finished a particularly difficult chapter. Were it strictly fiction, that would not be the case!
As usual, your medical condition has nothing to lessen the razor sharp mind turning out totally accurate analysis. Nobody has written about what you have written about and I did not look at things that way
until you wrote about this. I have to uncomfortably admit that you are spot on. My intention has been to be regular in getting out a segment a week but then sometimes I sit down and the story is all there
but I can’t punch in one letter of it. I must wait. Sleep, breathe and then try again.
Thanks for that and everything else you have given me. God bless you and thanks for Him too!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
first para, you mention 3 options but I see only two options listed. ‘Course, I am in Phx and have been working out in the heat. After about 4 hours I have a sudden loss of about 50 I.Q. points so I may have just missed the point.
Can’t go forward, can’t go back and can’t stay where you are….the big three of combat…
Semper fi,
Jim
Evenning Jim, Yes;
“Can’t go forward, can’t go back and can’t stay where you are….”
You just described what it is like in a hover in a hot LZ sitting at the stick of a slick, Yes We were the prime example of a Duck in a raging stream, Yes to all appearances calm and collected on the surface but paddling like a mofo underneath.
Semper Fi/This We Defend Robert Eclkund.
I hear you and understand. Without moving the choppers were so vulnerable and even moving, unless moving at top speed and turning,
there were many times easy targets for machine gun fire. Thanks for writing that on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great read and besides some wee little errors already noted I add: Fusner got out, shaking his angle to loosen my grip. Might you mean “ankle”?
Thanks for the compliment and we are all over the edits like your own. Accurate and timely, I might add…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter Mr Strauss. I am and have thoroughly enjoyed and am enjoying each and every word Thank you sir for sharing
Thanks so much for that comment Tim. I grow all the stronger with such report on such a difficult endeavor…
Semper fi,
Jim
Get some Lt Strauss! Yeah!!
Yes, that was a phrase I heard over there too but it was much tougher to apply than to say, like the rest of life!
Thanks for the appropriate comment and your writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Written with the same grim certainty a young Marine LT moving the full force of a Marine unit against an enemy long overdue a asswhoopin’.
Like you said in announcing this pub, Sept is fast moving towards the end we all have stuck around to see the fate of the Lt and his men. May He protect all of you. God Bless
Would that God would have not taken so many wonderful, rough and tough young men into his warm loving arms back at that time.
I live with them still and sometimes the writing about them makes me feel like I am not doing them justice or I’m revealing stuff
they might not have wanted me to reveal. There’s a balance, and there’s also a balance of memory. What am I really recalling and what am I inventing
to cover those areas where ‘footsteps in the sand’ are simply not there? Doing my best to lay it down as it went down and
then reflect on why I am still here, why I have been still here through the years. Was it to write this?
Thanks for your always thoughtful and supporting comments. You guys on here keep me going and keep me rewarded for what I am doing….
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Brothers we were Brothers we are. Sleep will not come easy tonight my friend Semper fi
Sleep with your brothers still here, because come of us will be up looking out for you and also taking to the Man
about you…and it’s all good. Good night my friend and thanks for being there with me even though I didn’t know it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Many of us wonder why we are both here and still here. Class of 65, 66, & 68. Semper Fi
I would be among the many. Just the way it went down and then remained
……Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, you are still a live and here to write this story. Everything that has happen in your life has brought you to this God given Purpose for you. God is rewarding you with the healing of others and yourself through your writing and comments of others.
Your God given Purpose is not easy but God’s love and grace in your life has brought you to this Amazing Purpose.
God has always Blessed You, even in the worst of times as He carried you in His loving arms.
A Pebble
Thank you so much for your continued support and wonderful encouragement.
There are tough patches along the way on this rather different and unusual adventure and there you are….
helping carry me across…
Semper fi,
Jim
“The Gunny had stayed with the Ontos, squeezing into through the” perhaps “squeezing into it through”.
Semper Fidelis
Thanks for the help…the Gunny got in there, sure enough…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn, I am at loss for words,the long wait between chapters was worth it. Gunny could have been a motivational speaker in civilian life!Go get’em boys!!!!!
Thanks Chuck, for some reason some vets have found this chapter to be particularly meaningful and deep. I don’t write it that way. I just
hesitantly lay the words down and try to relive it as best as I can.
Semper fi, and thanks so much for the compliment of your following and comments…
Jim
Another riveting and excellent chapter. Couple of comments:
“The plans to roll the Ontos to us here, and then move” Should that read “The plan is to roll the Ontos to us here, and then move”
” the only flea I see in this plan of yours.” Should that read ” the only flaw I see in this plan of yours.”
Thanks for the compliment Bob and the help with editing. Hard to edit ones own work…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, thanks for another great chapter.
Thanks for the support in reading and making a neat comment about it here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Reading this now is like watching an action film with a star like John Wayne. At the height of the drama —now an important message from our sponsor. ( I gotta go to the head.) Your doing a great job writing Jim. I will be waiting for the next chapter with keen anticipation.
Thanks a lot Heikki. I take these kinds of compliments real seriously and they also help keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
Always a pleasure to get the next chapter! Here are suggested edits:
You wrote: Three options, with not one of them being without [highly] mortal risk. Suggested edit: [high]
You wrote: “The [plans] to roll the Ontos to us here, and then move the company south in three prongs,” I said. Suggested edit: [plan is]
You wrote: “It’s almost light[] Fusner,” I said, looking down at the top of his helmet. Suggested edit: insert a comma after “light”
You wrote: “Penny Lane,” I said down into the hole. “The [plans] called ‘Penny Lane‘.” Suggested edit: [plan is]
You wrote: That many of those officers had died at my [Marines] own hands seemed not to count. Suggested edit: [Marines’]
You wrote: Just as I turned to climb up to the lip of the hole[] the AN-323 radio kicked to life. Suggested edit: insert a comma after “hole”
You wrote: I know the area well[] I’m loaded for bear with maximum ordnance for the effort. Suggested edit: insert a period after “well” OR insert “and” after “well”
You wrote: Over and out.” Comment: Not correct radio procedure. Should just be “Out.”
Thanks for the editing help. Chuck will be all over the help tonight.
Semper fi, and thanks so much for the compliment too…
Jim
Always stop and leave us hanging !
Good work JAMES
I don’t mean to Harold but it was 1:45 in the morning when I gave up…
Thanks for wanting more and reading more…
Semper fi,
Jim
Once again outstanding pictures painted with your writing sir.
Thanks for the great compliment Chuck, as I do work at it but the writing part kind of flows down through the ages
all by itself…neat comment though.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great segment, Jim, keep the suspense up. I’m in it with you emotionally.
Thanks Bob, as it is one hell of a roller coaster. Life here in my real life is kind of topsy turvy
and I have to balance it all with the recall of so long ago and the stark emotional confrontation these nights bring me.
Semper fi, and thanks for caring…and writing about it here.
Jim
I was a 14 year old freshman when President Nixon announced the suspension of offensive actions against the North Vietnamese. I had followed the nightly news of the war for several years. It was still far enough from me that I wasn’t concerned about the draft. I distinctly remember when the news of peace hit my small high school. 8-10 senior girls were running down the halls screaming and hugging and some crying that the war was over. Not one single thing was done by the teachers to stop the joy these girls were experiencing since their friends and boyfriends would no longer have to worry about being sent to Vietnam.
I want to thank you for putting your experiences down for all to see. I can only imagine having to relive those terror filled days and nights that you describe. And though if I had been old enough to go, I would have gone. But I thank the Lord I didn’t have to experience what you and many others like you went through.
Your service and the service of all the men like you is greatly appreciated.
Meaningful and revealing. Your comment, I mean. Meaningful to me and also the revelation of your own background and how you really feel about it.
Thanks for the compliment and also for allowing me to give you something of a forum, to be able to write what you wrote with the expectation that what you said will find acceptance…
Semper fi,
Jim
Like the previous commenter I watched the war unfold on the evening news . I have long since realized how inaccurate and untruthful it probably was.
I also feel guilt as at least one other commenter has stated about not being there. I was a year younger than my classmates and was already enrolled in college when I registered for the draft in 72. I had a lottery number in the low 60’s but was spared being called up.
A conversation I had with father a few years later that is still with me, we were talking about the war and he made a comment “that he would have never let me go” (to Nam).
I will forever regret not asking him to elaborate ( or maybe I would have regretted it.) I’ll never know as he gone now.
He was a WW2 Marine vet and was in the invasion of Pelileau. I read “With the Old Breed” and that gave an insight to his statement but again I will never know for sure.
I can only echo all the other comments praising and thanking you for your work. I look forward to each installment.
I do believe I know what your father would have been going to say, if you had pursued knowing. He would have told you that he’d already been there. He instinctively knew that combat in Vietnam
was likely no different than it was on that hellish island back in his time. He would not have told you the details, as I have never told my family the details (they are reading them along with you as they read the work that
comes out with each new segment). He would have expected that he could keep you from going using whatever powers and means he had at hand. One of those would not have been telling you about the island campaign. He’s
already learned that for people firmly entrenched in this wonderful phenomenal world we’ve created that his world on the island, in stark, harsh and brutal reality, wasn’t something that was either believable or acceptable.
He would have figure out some other way to stop you. He would have told you, or acted in such a way, to assure you that you were too valuable to be cast into a life-filling cauldron of blood, gore and pain without saying it
exactly that way. Such is real true love.
Semper fi,
Jim
“The plan’s to roll the Ontos…” I think you need an apostrophe in “plan’s” to contract “plan is.” Kind of picky, I know. May get to see you in Santa Fe. Semper Fi, Jim Hatch Captain USMCR UH-34D pilot, Jun66-Jul67, and KC-130 pilot, Aug69-Aug70. Have enjoyed your escapades immensely.
Thanks for enjoying the writing Jim and I do so hope to see you in Santa Fe.
Thanks for the compliment and the background….
Semper fi,
Jim
Six chapters to cover a single night but what a long night it was! Incredibly brilliant writing.
As always, looking forward for more.
Yes, it was night and yes I screwed up the titles because I could not make it any shorter no matter how I tried.
All that stuff happened and I was trying to shoe horn it all in as best I could. The story itself is not hard to write but
it hard to ‘moderate’ how it all comes out…
Semper fi, and thanks for your observation and attention to detail…
Jim
Keep it coming LT can’t wait.
The segments are coming, as I apologize for how long it takes me to bring another on through to
final…thanks for waiting.
Semper fi,
Jim
“Talked to him, sir. He’s coming at first light,” Fusner got out, shaking his (angle) (ankle) to loosen my grip. “First light he’ll be here but he can’t come with the others because of the support they have to give Lima and Kilo.”
Sounds more like Daniel into the lions den. Hope Cowboy lights them up like a Christmas tree.
Well, it was sort of like Daniel into the Lion’s Den kind of thing.
You never knew what you were going to run into or have to run through, away from
or attack. By the tine you are committed in the jungle it’s too late to withdraw…
Thanks for the comment and your long support Peter…
Semper fi,
Jim
And there was light. Thanks maestro.
And then there was light….and it was so, and now the action upon action begins
anew…thanks for your support Kirby and the compliment in one word!
Semper fi,
Jim
LT:
One of the best chapters yet.
Hooah.
I only have one very minor suggested change: “I know the area well I’m loaded for bear with maximum ordnance for the effort. Is it Penny for Your Thoughts or Penny Lane?”
Suggestion 1: “I know the area well. I’m loaded for bear with maximum ordnance for the effort. Is it Penny for Your Thoughts or Penny Lane?” (adding a period between “well & I”), or,
Suggestion 2: “I know the area well and I’m loaded for bear with maximum ordnance for the effort. Is it Penny for Your Thoughts or Penny Lane?” (adding a period between “well & I” using “and” to connect the two thoughts).
Your call.
I eagerly await your next chapter.
Thanks Craig, we are all over the changes and much appreciate the help, the work to give the help, the writing it on here,
and then the compliment of your time spent and your care as written on here…nothing of that is missed Craig…
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, I have had this eidetic memory almost all of my life. Got a lot of it back when I got hit by lightening back in 85.
I’d lost the thing when I was in high school and had to learn how to study. That sucked.
But the Vietnam stuff was all in there and after 85 I could remember it in detail all over again!
Semper fi,
Jim
Lovin your story. I’m guessing your memory is better than mine is. I was there in 65′, 67′. I was flying with a Navy patrol squadron in a P2. We flew out of Tan San Nhut, Da Nang and Bien Hoa mostly. Tan San Nhut was the worst cause the airforce had no place for use to stay (4 aircrews) and we had to go back and forth to Siagon. We mostly flew the delta and the coast looking for ammo runners. I had an M60 I stuck out of the rear window. We had rockets and torpedos just in case. Keep up the good work. Glad you made it back. Semper Fi.
Yes, I have had this eidetic memory almost all of my life. Got a lot of it back when I got hit by lightening back in 85.
I’d lost the thing when I was in high school and had to learn how to study. That sucked.
But the Vietnam stuff was all in there and after 85 I could remember it in detail all over again!
Semper fi,
Jim
Extrodnary writing James, have been waiting for this segment, hopefully the next will be soon
Yes, James, the next one should be pretty quick as I am writing this very night and that is not always possible.
Sometimes I have to hole up a bit. Thanks for the patience and the care in the waiting…
Semper fi,
Jim
Right up to the point, and……………………………I have been hooked since Day 1.
Thanks Harry. I wonder how many pages the whole three volume set will work out to be.
Maybe as long as the Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favorite novels of all time. I don’t know.
I am only laying it down as it went down the best I can…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Made you feel like a Marine Officer.” The pride you must have felt..; likely, still do….
Yes, still do. I stand for the Marine Hymn no matter where I am.
I could never take a knee to the Star Spangled Banner.
Just could not bend it for that or for anything short of genuflection at church or post-rigor mortus.
Just me though and not everybody.
When I was in the hospital in San Francisco the staff found out I was Junior from other guys passing through.
That hurt me badly because I thought I could come home and not have anyone know about that and I wanted so
bad to be lieutenant. When I got to Camp Pendleton the Junior thing didn’t transfer and other offices never understood why I was so tickled to be called lieutenant!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, Another great chapter and a riveting read…thanks for painting such a realistic picture !
Thanks Cap, for coming in on this show and making a comment about it.
The compliment is accepted and hits home…
Semper fi,
Jim
Splendid! Next?
Yes, neat one word, actually two, compliment. Thanks most sincerely and I am hard at it…
This is not an ‘ordinary’ series of books at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
It only get’s better an better , and make my understanding of PTSD is , that you can defect anything , if you only try hard enough ! Awaiting the next chapter with eagerness beyond belief !!
PTSD. Not a curable thing because there is no syndrome or disorder.
You stepped through a door into reality.
You lived the reality.
You came home to the phenomenal world where reality is only a distant occurrence on television or history.
You cannot shed what you know. You cannot forget it.
You cannot avoid the dreams about it that seem to plague you because your mind and body have been harshly steeped in a reality they both know that you might have to return to survive again.
Those who have PTSD have been allowed to know the truth of geography, topography, physicality, personality, depravity,
violence and all elements of the human condition where no restraints or restrictions apply.
Accept the gift…
and work to accommodate…
and hope that you never need to use it again…
and expect nobody who has not been given the
gift is going to understand…
at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, that is the best statement about PTSD I have ever seen or read.
I delivered a short speech about this to the PTSD people at the Milwaukee VA and got shown the door.
Nicely, of course.
They wanted to give me some new happy drug that makes you feel rewarded for whatever you do.
Just what I needed. Another addicted drug…
Thanks for the evaluation and review of what I have come to understand and live with.
My gift
Semper fi
Jim
40 years after leaving the Nam for the last time…40 years of not realizing that I had PTSD….or, at least not wanting to accept the possibility…a buddy of mine finally forced me to go to the VA and seek help…I spent three years in counseling and programs all administered by an amazing DR. She was a tiny woman, a Native Vietnamese woman..born in Nam in 65′..a child that lived through ‘our” war in her country…I often was filled with tears during our sessions…and when I finally had the courage to ask her “why’ she would want to have anything to do with us….She replied that it was her way of saying Thank you to all of us that tried so hard to help her people…..so from Her to all of you….”thank you’…Semper Fi
Thanks Larry, for coming home and for going to that therapist. I have Dr. John Bair, or at least I did before he ‘graduated’ me from the group.
Thanks for being so straight and true about your own background and about your opinions about mine…
Semoer fi, my friend,
Jim
“The plans to roll the Ontos to us
The plan’s OR The plan is
Thanks Michael for the help here!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
THIS IS THE MARINE CORPS AT ITS FINEST ..IN HARROWING CONDITIONS OF WAR AND YET STILL COHESIVE ENOUGH TO EXECUTE A PLAN AGAINST A WELL TRAINED NVA ,WHOW WEREN’T DUMMIES
Semper Fi
Thanks Tony, nicely written my friend…and uuuoooo rah!
Semper fi,
Jim