I grabbed everything I could, took a quick glance around and made a beeline for the door, which was partly ajar, and banging occasionally against the entryway. As I stretched my arm out in front of me, as if I were a half back on a football team defending off a would be tackler, to push the door open, it swung open abruptly. I went sprawling down the two or three steps that led from the hooch to the outside, landing on my face in the dirt. "Hey Hot Shot" this voice said, "In a hurry to get someplace". As I lay sprawled on the dirt. My gear I'd been carrying in my arms was now all around me scattered about. I looked up to see who was speaking to me. There stood the same Sergeant that had spoken to us the night before on lines, with a broad smile across his face. He obviously was holding back his instinctive desire to laugh. "They won't leave with out you "Boot", you still have plenty of time to get up to the "Top's " hooch for your traveling papers." "You OK?" Yeah, I responded to myself, as if I'd had the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't help thinking, this guy must think I'm the most uncoordinated Marine he's ever laid eyes on. Instinctively I answered "No sir, yes Sir!  I'm OK" You don't have to call me "Sir" he responded, and then he laughed out loud, as I wanted to just wither up and disappear. "Collect your gear, and head up to the "Top's" hooch, you'll see the others there already standing by." OK", I muttered, as I caught myself from saying sir again, and began to slowly pick myself up out off the dirt. 
 

 I gathered my gear and dusted off what I could, when I heard this voice yell out from the hooch, "This your C-bag Marine?" Oh Yeah, I said, I had forgotten to grab it in my hurry to get oxygen and fresh air from outside the hooch. "You'll need it where your going, as all this gear is stowed at  "Camp Big John", he said in a more friendly tone, while bring it out to me." Thank you", I said, really not looking him in the eye, as I was already too embarrassed. I was thinking, so now on top of being uncoordinated, I was also an individual with no brains, who forgot the bulk of his gear. That's how I felt he felt, as he made sure I had everything. I tried to sling the C-bag over my shoulder, but with the pack and everything, the weight of it just slid down from my shoulders in a bulky manor that through me again off balance and heading for a fall. "Hold on their Boot", the Sergeant said, "let me give you a hand", as he lifted the C-bag up to my shoulder where I clutched it tightly, not to loose my grip and drop it again. "Thank you", again I said to him, as I struggled under all the weight towards the area he pointed to earlier where the "Top's " hooch was to be found. I never ran into that Sergeant again my entire tour, but if your reading this, Sergeant, I made it home, and regained the majority of my coordination back. Well, at least as long as I never have to perform anything that requires coordination in your presence. 

I finally managed to make it up to the "Top's" hooch just in time, as he was giving these other guy's, three of them, their instructions and papers for their journey to where ever Hotel Company was suppose to be exactly. "What's your name Marine", the "Top" said in a typical drill Sergeant's voice, as if we were still back in "Boot Camp". "Hingston, Sir", I stated in a loud voice, with as much confidence as I could get into it. These are your orders, DON'T loose them, and give them to the 1st Platoon Commander when you reach the "Tree Line". 

Now you Marines see that area down below there, the "Top" said, as if explaining it to 6-year-old children with mental handicaps. "Yes Sir!" we all responded, go there. This is where the Chopper will pick you up and take you to Dong Ha. When you arrive at Dong Ha, you'll proceed to check in there. You'll then walk in the direction of the river, the long water area between the stripes of vast land and jungle. "Yes Sir!” we answered, like retarded kids that he obviously thought us to be, as he was explaining everything in great detail as if we were actually retarded or just plain the village idiots.  There you'll find a pier, and at that pier is a riverboat, that riverboat will take you for a ride on the river up to "Camp Big John", You Marines following me so far? "Yes Sir!” again we all responded, all four of us. You'll see some supplies all stacked up near the pier there. That's where you'll find this Navy Chief. He'll tell you what to do, and how and when to do it. Just follow his orders to the letter. He’ll direct you where and when your suppose to go from there. "Yes Sir!” we responded in unison. He's the loading Chief, so if he tells you something, you do it! Don't ask stupid questions? "Yes Sir!” we again all responded, I was beginning to feel like an idiot savant, with the only ability I was capable of performing, was to say in a choirs, "Yes Sir!" The less you say the better shape you'll stay in, GOT THAT MARINE! "YES SIR!” we responded. Then get down there, that Chopper won't wait all day for you, there's a war over here in case no body told you, and he disappeared back inside his air-conditioned hooch again. I wondered if Peter was inside, enjoying the coolness of the air conditioner, obviously a much better place to be then out here in the suffocating and drenching heat which soaked you clean through with your own perspiration as if you'd been soaked or drenched with a pail of water. 

            We managed to make it down to the landing zone for the chopper in one piece. We arrived just in time, as soon as I set my C bag down, I heard the sound of the choppers blades coming closer in the distance. I tried to look up and locate it, but as I glanced up, I looked squarely into the sun and it temporarily blinded me so I couldn't see anything for a few seconds. When the chopper landed we boarded and began our flight to Dong Ha, which probably didn't last 10 minutes, but during the ten minutes we froze to death as the chopper had no windows in it, and at the altitude we were flying, it was freezing cold. No wonder the Marines on the helicopter wore heavy flight suits, it must be miserable for them when they're on the ground, but perfect for up where we were flying. The chopper made enough noise that if anyone took a shot at us, I can't imagine how they'd know, as this noise seemed to drown out any other sounds that might be possibly heard. The Gunner on the machine gun gazed intently out the door of the chopper, as I thought, this must be a great way to fight a war, never having to lug all your personal gear with you every where you went, and you rode, not walked. Plus it was nice and cool for them, and most likely they had air conditioned hooch's to return to, as the air wing seemed to really take care of their own. Of course I didn't take into consideration that choppers over here were shot down like in a shooting gallery all the time. They took you into hot LZ's and extracted you from them, taking the chance of being shot down and becoming a grunt like you until another rescue chopper arrived for them. That's if they weren't killed or badly wounded when shot down. I guess every area of this war had its ups and downs, really no one had it made if they were in any way connected with the grunts. At least we were already on the ground, we didn't drop a thousand feet through the air to get to the ground like they might if shot down. 

Arriving at Dong Ha, we exited the chopper, which took off immediately after we were off. They didn't spend much time on the ground waiting for some mortar to zero in on them, and blow the hell out of them before they got air born again, where they could open up with their machine guns and any other devices that the chopper might have. We made our way to the pier and checked in with the Navy Chief. It was about forty-five minutes before we were on our way up river to "Camp Big John", God only knew as far as I was concerned what "Camp Big John" would be like, none of us had ever been there before. 

It didn't really take very long before we were arriving at "Camp Big John". It appeared to be a clearing carved out of the jungle along the side of the river. There was no pier, or dock to pull the boat up to. The boat, just reversed its big engines, and backed up so we were bow first towards the land. It then chugged it's way methodically until it ran aground on the bit of a beach that was along the side of the river. It was like an Old World War II landing craft, a little larger then they make beach landings in the movies. Once against the shore, the bow was released, and the entire front lowered slowly to the ground like a Hugh ramp for us and all the gear intended for the Camp could walk or drive off of. It was loaded with pallet's of cartons of God knows what, other pallet's looked like they had ammo on them. There was quite the assortment of supplies for the Camp. The Camp was lined with a couple of rows of tents, big tents, not hooch's like back at Phu Bai. Each tent approximately only a few feet from the next one, all in a cleared out area surrounded with jungle and an open area of land that stretched for a few hundred meters to a tree line in the distance. There was also rice paddies in the area, they looked like perfectly square green patches surrounded by dike after dike as they faded off towards the tree line. The grass near the river was a bit high, not looking as if anyone was assigned to mow it with a mower at regular intervals. "Watch out for the snakes" this guy, said as he walked passed us headed for the boat. I wondered if he was serious or not? 

On the way up the river as we chugged along the lazy flowing river, that was a couple hundred meters wide most of the time, but in a couple of spots, even wider, much wider as it appeared to join another river in it's flow to the ocean I assumed. The land was thick on both sides with a mixture of jungle and open fields of rice paddies that slowly faded out of sight into a tree line or thick jungle area. You could see farmers working the rice paddies with their water buffalo, plowing in the watery filled dikes as others, mostly women planted rice stalks in the water and mud of the paddies. The local people dressed in like thin black pajama's, looked like silk, and wore big rimmed hats whitish in color that was wide at the ends and rose to a point in the center. It made you wonder if they weren't VC spying on the river so they could tip them off to ambush us, as there wasn't anywhere for the boat to go, and at its slow pace, we made excellent targets for anyone. 

The boat was large gray and rusting in spots. It had a bridge that was enclosed and a couple of 50 cal. machine guns on either side of what was the bridge, a cabin looking thing between a walk way to either side of the vessel.. It also had a small 60-mm. mortar mounted in the aft end of the vessel, and there were other 60 cal. machine guns strategically placed around the boat, I imagine they could put out a large degree of fire power when needed to. We were all armed with our M16's and the sailors aboard all carried an assortment of weapons. They all were without shirts and darkly tanned, always being exposed to the hot beating sun, which seemed to blister the skin from the way it reflected off the water. It was so hot, you wished you could dive over the side and take a swim. I don't think they'd wait for you, as they chugged steadily up river towards our destination. I knew they made at least two trips a day up here, how else would Peter be able to meet me later tonight. It was early afternoon by now, as we waited for over an hour or so at Dong Ha before shoving off. I was hungry, so I was hoping they had chow available at "Camp Big John". 

All in all, there were about ten or so tents, we found one with what looked to be the headquarters tent, as the radio was operating inside, and people seemed to be busy enough inside of it. One of the Marines there spoke to us, saying "You the replacements for Hotel Company?" "We are", one of the other guys said. Find the Gunny and he'll show you where to stow your C-bags. Then go to the chow tent and see if anything is left to eat, if not we'll get you some C-rations. 

He had someone take us to the Gunny who had us fill out these forms so we'd be able to later claim our C-bags, if we weren't killed or medevaced home due to wounds. He took us to the chow tent, but nothing was available, so we had C-rations for a late lunch. I was beginning to understand Peter's statement about eating the "Hot Chow", as C-rations although not too bad, were definitely second choice to a hot meal. We finished eating and then met with the Gunny again. 

You Marines will be going out with the evening hot chow on that Amtrac at approximately 16:30 hours. Until then, if you have writing gear maybe it's a good idea to write home and let everyone know your alive and well while you can still get it into the mail bag which is headed down river with the boat when it shoves off. 

We all scrambled to get a quick letter off. In mine, I didn't say much about anything, just I was in a secure area in the rear, and there was no need to worry about anything serious happening to me. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to be watching the six o'clock evening news every night in fear I'd be one who was in a flag draped coffin. I particularly didn't want her to see me in a fierce battle. All that would do is upset her and have her wondering if I was OK or not.

The media didn't care how much stress, they stressed our parents and loved ones with back home, as long as they got their lousy ratings. The media made the North Vietnamese appear to have a kind heart compared to us. Sensationalism sells more so then the truth, as nobody wants to see servicemen in Vietnam doing any humanitarian jobs for the South Vietnamese people, which don’t get ratings. If a village is accidentally bombed or because we took fire from a village and returned fire, then the media is there hoping to get a live shot of some innocent women or children that were killed.  The probability of the VC or NVA killing them, even before we opened up on them, for opening up on us, mattered little to the media. That side wouldn't be shown, even if they knew it to be true, the truth wasn't what they wanted. To appease protesting cowardly draft burning anti-government hippies is all they wanted in order to insight them into more protest that just might get ugly and become violent, better ratings still, that's what the media wanted. The media wanted to see atrocities so they could make the protesters back home, instigate another protest. Hopefully the latest one more violent and disturbing then the last one. The more violence at home and American Military men dyeing in your living rooms on TV meant more ratings, which meant more money, Hippocratic news media people are truly the instigators responsible for the unstable conditions both in VietNam and in the USA. 

Protesting wasn't to get us out of Vietnam for our sakes, don't be fooled about that, if so why did they spit on us and swear at us and call us baby killers, when we just wanted to come home to a life we thought we left behind us. We wanted the war behind us more then anyone. We lived it, everyday for 13 months and 20 days for a Marine. Once home we wanted to continue our lives, to pursue what we had begun before we felt we had an obligation to serve our country and therefore enlisted in the military o for fill that obligation. A dramatic cultural swing in the United States, which was instigated by the media about the time Martin Luther King was killed, influenced the North’s strategy of how the rest of the Vietnam War would be fought. All of this occurred while I was serving in Vietnam, even my friends, I thought were friends, despised me for simply living, and not having been killed over in VietNam with the rest of the baby killers. I guess they felt our men dyeing would have served some perverted sense of justice. 

We were no longer the kid who delivered the afternoon paper, or worked at the local drug store. Nor were we the kids that went off to college to educate ourselves. Not anymore, now we were an animal that enjoyed killing for the sake of killing. Regardless if it was man, woman, child, or beast, as long as we killed it. We were responsible for every injustice, every wrong deed, we too were animals to be mocked, abused mentally, and denied the same equal opportunities that we fought to preserve. We were suppose to show remorse for our actions and to publicly apologize because we came home alive. The freedoms we have maintained and kept alive in this country contributed to the same elements used to destroy any and all hopes of a normal life.  The foundation of that destruction was the FREE PRESS, the MEDIA. They were the ones who cared more about ratings and less for the truth. It didn’t matter to them if it killed us, and destroyed the lives of the very people that turned them on in some sort of hypnotic trance in hopes they'd get a chance to see their son, husband, father, boyfriend, or brother, one more time before they died. 

Here is a little known published fact relating to the escalation of violence in our Country, in relation to TV violence. Violence has increased in programming over the last ten years by about 19%. In TV news broadcasting violence has increased by more then 400%. Next time you all gather around the TV during dinner to catch the days events on nightly TV news, see how many mouthfuls of food you can swallow before your staring at a dead body in the middle of your living room. Right in the confines of your home, the sanctity of the family violated in the interest of increasing their own profits through higher ratings.  May God have mercy on their souls, as they will answer one day to someone higher then themselves? 

All opinions are of that of the author, and do no reflect, mirror, or speak for the Hotel Marines 1968-web site. I can be located at rotties@aasp.net 

Stay tuned for Arrival 5, a journey aboard Amtrac's to the infamous "Tree Line" where Hotel Company, 2nd Bn. 1st Marines, 1st Marine Division, was located in their struggle to preserve the South Vietnamese peoples freedom of choice in late June 1968. 

Author: Bobby Hingston  (June 1998)