Get yourselves up on top, someone said over the noise of the engines which was deafening in itself. One look and I'm thinking how in God's name am I going to get up on top of that thing. There weren't any steps to put your feet into, I wonder if they lower the front and like an elevator rise you up on to the top of these monsters. "Just throw your gear up there, and someone will give you a hand", this Amtrac guy said. I didn't envy these guys, they were sitting ducks for every NVA and VC for miles, and box mines could wipe out everyone with one blast as the fuel was on the bottom where the explosion would take place. Most serious injuries that didn't relate in deaths were burns, due to the fuel igniting and catching everything on fire. I wondered how the driver ever had a chance of escaping, as he was down inside with just his head sticking out of the hatch opening enabled him to see as he drove.

This guy pulled me up on to the top where sand bags lined the top and they had a 30 cal. machine gun behind a little bunker of sand bags. Everyone else made there way on top as there engines revved louder and the smell of diesel fuel filled the hot stale air. It seemed we were at least 10 feet above the ground, and we had a good view of the country side, and we also made good targets as well. "Don't hang your feet over the side", this guy said to me. "We hit a mine, and you'll be minus your legs". That was good enough explanation for me, as I pulled my feet up under me as we started to pull out. The first Amtrac had nobody riding on top of it, I guess so if he hit a mine, they wouldn't loose too many men. Talk about walking point while using your feet for probing sticks for mines, these guys definitely had to have nerves of steel to venture out into the unknown and just waiting to hit a mine and die.

The second Amtrac followed almost exactly in the first ones tracks that it made as it turned by halting one side tracks and with jerky movement. There were about four Amtrac's in all heading out to the "Tree Line", and we made quite an impressive little line. I noticed not all the Amtrac's had 30 cal machine guns on top of them, some just had crew members with M16 like we had. I kept thinking that we really didn't have a lot of fire power like the boat we came up on. What if we were to get hit in an ambush. First of all I'd have to bail off about 10 feet to the ground, probable breaking an ankle or leg. What is they hit us in a cross fire, then what? The Amtrac's didn't exactly fly, as far as moving with any great speed. You'd think they'd put a tank or two with us for protection, as a couple of 30 cal. machine guns weren't that impressive to scare a unit of NVA off, especially if they had rockets or RPG's, a hand held fired rocket launcher. They were Russian made or somewhere from the Soviet Block Countries, and able to penetrate a tank, let alone one of the Amtrac's. Hopefully we weren't worth attacking and exposing themselves for, as they only exposed themselves when they out numbered you 10 to 1. I think the artillery and air support kind a scared them from massing in large numbers as we had a lot of Recon units everywhere waiting for them to mass together so they could call artillery and air support on top of them. Recon though usually worked up in the DMZ area, although we were only 6 or so miles from the DMZ along the coast line, South East of Con Thien.

I decided not to worry about what wasn't happening as Peter told me about. The sun beat down hard on us sitting on top of the Amtrac's as the air was thick and stale. Riding on the Amtrac's created a bit of a breeze, but not enough to ward off the incredible heat that literally wanted to roast you alive. I looked out around me at the country side. It was incredible. Their were mountains in the distance, covered with heavy jungle, and clouds hung low in certain areas, as if it were raining in that part. The rice paddies we were traveling through seemed to stretch for miles, and the light green stalks of rice made it appear that the whole area was one big well taken care of lawn back home. There were farmers working in the paddies, some in all black pajama outfits others with black bottoms with white tops, and of course their hats that looked like white rimmed cones and the hats themselves were a whiteish color. There were villages scattered all around and tree lines that vanished into the jungle or off towards the mountains in the distance. Kids helped in the paddies ridding a top of water buffalo's, guiding them with a thin stick by hitting them one side or another. Also old women were planting rice along with old men. It dawned on me that no kids older then about 12 years old were to be seen, and no young women or young men, just really young kids and older men and women.

We were slowing down as I noticed we were about to cross a river. How far these would sink is beyond me. The first entered the water and seemed to switch engines as it made a different sound then it normally made. We jerked and swung right keeping in the tracks of the one ahead of us as we began to enter the water. The river had no swift current and the water was a brownish color as it lazily passed on it's way probably to join a bigger river and then to meet the ocean. I was utterly amazed how these steel monsters actually floated and were controlled enough to cross the rivers. You'd think they'd need a propeller like a boat, but if there was one, it wasn't visible from the outside. I reached into the water only a few inches below us and it felt warm, not refreshing at all. I guess this heat affected everything, and nothing escaped it's burning rays, not even a lazy flowing river. As we approached the other side and seemed to come out of the water, it seemed to shift gears back into to the diesel sound again as we followed the tracks of the one in front of us up the bank of the river. The incline threw everyone back as we reached to grab onto something from being thrown off. The Amtrac guys didn't seem to budge an inch as they were use to to these things and they didn't pay much attention to us either as they figured I guess we'd make out OK.

We'd been riding probably about a half an hour when someone said there's the "Tree Line" where your guys are suppose to be headed for. It seemed like a awfully long trip, first the choppers, then the boat ride up the river and now the Amtrac's, but I guess now we were finally here. I surveyed the area as we approached. To the left of the Tree Line was a hugh village, and other tree lines surrounding the village. It appeared the "Tree Line" where Hotel Company was, was on a raised almost Island compared to the land around it. It was about 6 to 8 inches higher then the rest of the surrounding land which was mostly sand and abandoned rice paddies. On the land where Hotel Company was, it was long and thin, stretching a few hundred meters in length running perpendicular to the village. The Island was covered with all kinds of make shift tents. The tents were made from poncho's and puncho liners, tied to anything that was available. There were also small fox holes dug every where, but just a few feet deep, and they all appeared to be cluttered unto this Island, as we got closer, the Island appeared to be one ver large grave yard.

The Vietnamese people buried their dead in mounds, not graves as we here in America are aware of. Some are surrounded with cement circular, almost mote shaped outlines of the graves. The one opportunity these offer, is when artillery fire is fired, they form natural barriers from scharpnel from the exploding shells, but the major factor is that the NVA and VC are least likely to shell their own graves, even if they are not theirs per say in actuality. The Vietnamese people are a superstitious people who pay homage to their dead year round in the Buddhist religion. They do this by burning incense and placing fresh food, like fruit and rice cakes in a small shrine found even in modern homes today of peoples of the Buddhist religion. Also once a year a celebration to the dead is carried out known a Bone Dance, where they hold religious ceremonies and dances for the dead. Prayers are bought by the decease relatives during the year right after the death of a loved one fading away as the years pass on. So setting up in an actual grave yard didn't buy us much favor with the villages, it did prevent artillery attacks, and never once while we were there were we attacked by NVA or VC forces, we were attacked away from that area  on patrols and Operations.

Arriving at our destination safely, transported by our Amtrac's, my biggest problem now was how to get off this thing without breaking my legs. I quickly surveyed the area to get an idea of the general layout and where I should go to find what would be 1st Platoon. It was basically impossible to tell where the CP was set up, as everything looked the same to me. I figured my best bet was to get down without breaking my legs and search for someone who appeared to know what was going on. Somehow getting down seemed to be a bigger problem then getting up here, but I knew I'd figure it out. I wish Peter had ridden out with me, he'd know what to do.
 

Stayed tuned as this series will continue under new titles as opposed to Arrival. These all follow in sequence of my experience's in Vietnam with Hotel Company, 1st Platoon, 2nd Bn. 1st Marines, 1st Marine Division during 1968. I hope you'll enjoy them as the are both factual and accurate to the best of the authors recollection.
 

Author: Bobby Hingston  (June 1998)

All written comments and opinions are that solely those of the author and do not reflect, mirror, or imply the opinions of the Hotel Marines 1968 web site or personnel.
To learn more about Amtrac's I refer you to http://www.mvcc.com/user/amgrunt  the site of Thomas Williams or to Amtracs at: http://www.geocities.com/Pentagon/5791. It is to these sites only and not to links displayed on these sites, as the author has not had time to check out all links from these pages to fully endorse them at this time. Check out the pictures below, pushing on last picture will take you to Thomas Williams site.