The 21 days at the POW Compound went fast. We got a lot of rest and got to know the Da Nang area a little. We spent the days sleeping, reading and playing back alley (I think it was my goal to loose all my money; I hope so; because that’s how it turned out). We did run a couple of daytime patrols around Marble Mountain during the daytime without any incidents, and had listening post out every night.  However, there was no real activity so, it was like a vacation for us.  I spent a lot of time in front of the Lt. Meale because I kept “loosing” my cover (hat) and he was always catching me being outside with out it on my head.  As every good Marine knows, it is a sin to be outside with out a cover on.  I was not a hat or cover person, never wore one as a kid.  My grandmother had told me that my grandfather was going bald from wearing a hat and I sure as heck did not want to go bald because of some silly rule.  Anyway, the Lt. was not near as much concerned with my going bald as he was with enforcing the rules. So, I would try not to wear a cover and he would catch me. 

     Word came down that he vacation was over and that we were moving out to the compound that 27th Marines had been occupying.  Our new job would be to relive them and stat patrol operations outside the compound, which was south of the Marble Mountain airbase a few miles. We had not heard much about the area but figured that after Khe Sanh and the Cau Viet, it could not be too bad.  Wrong! We were very wrong! Anyway, we had to get our gear together and gather up to wait for the six-bys. One good thing about the move that we were looking forward to was sleeping on cots in tents out of the weather. We knew that when we were not out on patrol, we would be in the compound. A real treat! 

     A lot of our stay at the POW compound was spent in training us. Fred and I learned a lot from Jay and others in the platoon about our jobs in the squad. We had to know every job; everything from being the  “Squad Leader to being the Tail End Charlie”.  One thing they had learned at Khe Sanh was that there can be a lot of instant openings for leadership positions in a fire fight and it was a real good idea to train everyone in everyone else’s job. As a result, we were drilled a lot harder on squad and team tactics during our stay at the POW Compound.  Even more so than when we were up North (something to do with never let a Marine sit idle, and a bitching Marine is a happy Marine). We each had to know all the frequencies for our supporting artillery batteries, for the air wing units that supported us, and the different medevac frequencies.  I knew how to call in artillery support and a medevac chopper to within ten feet of my position. I knew the responsibilities of being a team leader and squad leader and when I would assume any of those positions. I knew who was superior to me and who wasn’t. Having made PFC out of Boot Camp and Lance Corporal before getting to Vietnam I was pretty much senior to everyone else in my squad but, I was still junior when it came to bush time. The company was short on people with any rank, there were few corporals and sergeants; but, mostly lance corporals and PFCs. We were lucky to have a Staff Sergeant for platoon Sergeant (Staff Sergeant Carl King) and a Lieutenant for our Platoon Commander (Lieutenant Sam Meale). We also had a company Gunnery Sergeant Gunnery Sergeant Merrit) and a Captain. Captain Phil Jones was our company commander. 

     Have you ever noticed that when you are in no rush for your rides to show up, they have a way of coming early? As you may well guess, we were in no hurry to leave the POW compound.  So, the six-bys poured into the gates of the compound, EARLY, and lined up for us to board.  The drivers seemed to be the impatient ones this time rather then us who would normally been sitting in hot sun and baking for hours waiting for our rides showed up. Fred stated first, “just like these guys to come early when I could have caught a couple more of minutes of shuteye’. Someone else joined in with agreement and before long everyone was complaining because they came so early. 

We’d policed or cleaned the area up cleaner then we found it so that it would be ready for 2nd Platoon to take over and enjoy for a 21 day stretch. , They were in for a real treat. 21 days of easy living. We heard some lousy news about how 3rd Platoon had lost a lot of guys from Booby traps and it was 3rd Platoons area of operations that we were going to be taking over. The 2nd Platoon had been assigned to guard a bridge and Charley had managed to blow it up shortly after they took over. The Captain was not happy! It was hard to look good with bridge falling down around your head.  Division would not be happy.  They were very concerned about the little things (bridges staying in tact) and could end a good career over it.  The facts that we were under strength, under fed, under clothed and short on every conceivable item in the supply chain did not seem to us to be very high on their area of concern scale.  But, a bridge! Now, that is important!

Don’t get me wrong, there were some units in Vietnam that had all the best supplies. The Air Wing looked real good in their clean, starched, camouflaged utilities. The rear area guys we saw seemed to have it all; hot meals, maids, clubs to go to, movies to see and USO shows to go to. The Reconnaissance units were well equipped too.   The rest of us poor slobs got what ever we could scrounge from the army, the Navy other Marine units or even the ARVN (the Army of the Republic of Vietnam Troops) who we supplied with better gear then we had. The ARVN had super packs that were comfortable to wear over long periods and actually would hold gear that you needed to carry; not like our trusty Marine Corps packs (the same packs used by the Marines in WW2) that held nothing and were uncomfortable to wear, for even a few minutes.  Longing for one of the cool packs, I swapped some of my ration cards to buy cigarettes, for a brand new ARVN pack. Jay Vincens scrounged most of the good stuff we had when he went on his “re-supply missions” into Da Nang. Other than that, we traded for, bargained for or outright stole most of the equipment that was worth carrying.  I’m began to feel as if I was finally outfitted correctly, I even got a new flak jacket to swap for the one I was issued with holes and blood stains.
     Our ride back to battalion was uneventful, but another ride of hell at 60 to 70 miles an hour down a two-lained dirt road with a possibility of booby traps at every turn of the wheel. I figured hitting the bobby trap at normal speed would be bad enough maybe someone might be thrown clear and live, but at this speed hitting a booby trap, the speed alone would kill us all, but I guess that was a bit too much for the driver to figure out. I got to tell you, it is a helpless feeling flying down the road waiting on an explosion to end the trip. The only thing to do is pray and have faith in God; it is definitely out of your hands. We arrived in one piece along with the other six bys and found the area to be the same as it was when left it. The stuff in the hooch was just as we left them; nothing was missing. Our C-Bags were stored in a single tent; little did we know that in a few months they would be all under water when the monsoon season hit us. 

We were just settling into the huts and reclaiming our cots, and small areas of territory, when we got word to form up in formation in front of our hooch’s. We were a bit better now with formations because of the “practice” we had at the POW Compound; at lease now everyone knew where they were suppose to stand and in what order. The Captain told us that we’d be going out on a patrol in an hour and that we were to saddle up with our patrol gear and meet over at the Amtrac’s area. They would be taking us out to drop us off for a few days of patrolling. Boy were we surprised, we thought we’d get the night off and at worse have to stand lines, but going out on patrol our first night here was a bit quick for us.
     The area that surrounded the Battalion consisted of splotches of sand with small dunes and rough brush. It was difficult to move through unless you moved on the trails and if you moved on the trails, you ran the risk of bobby traps and of being an easy sniper target. There were  “friendly” villages in our new area of operations (AO) that the Captain wanted to see just whom they were “friendly” to. Were the bad guys were using them to store supplies or as operation centers?  Where were they staging their troops before they made attacks on the battalion area? He had a few little things he wanted to know and he wanted to know them now.  Not tomorrow, but now.

      A couple of guys were asking some of the men who had joined our platoon from 3rd Battalion 27th Marines. (They had been working this area and did know something about it) where we might be headed. The answer they got was not good. “Probably to one village or the other. They are all VC sympathizers in this area, so it makes no difference who call on first”. The new 3/27 guys bounded quickly with us at the POW Compound and were now just part our platoon and the squad they were assigned to.
 

        It was now close to mid afternoon and we were being assigned to the Amtrak we’d be riding for the first part of our journey. The noise was loud and the smell of fuel was thick in the air as it invaded your nostrils. Getting up on top of these big boys was going to be a big challenge especially for me being so short. These, as you can see, are not just hop up to and you are on, someone has to pull you up, or the back gate has to be lowered so that you could use it as a step. There was plenty of firepower.  The Amtrac had  .50 Cal. Machine gun and we had M-16’s rifles and M-60 machine guns. When riding on one of these, you don’t let your feet drape over the sides in case you do hit a box mine, it would shear your legs right off.  But then, if you hit a box mine, the whole thing will burn (the gas tanks will blow) so it does not really matter where you put your feet.
     This was a Company size patrol so we would be using four Amtrac’s.  Charlie Squad caught the first Amtrac, we had the second and there were two more behind us as we pulled out of the Battalion area heading for the front gate. I was glad that we were not on the first Amtrac.  The first one was most likely to hit a booby trap. But then, being on number two wasn’t a real god deal because Charley might wait to hit the second Amtrac so as to cause confusion and divide the Company.  Additionally, riding on top of an Amtrac in the open, in sniper country, is not my idea of a fun filled afternoon.

     We road along on the roads for a time then we got to where the MSR (Main Supply Route) cut off from the Tu Cau Road, which lead more directly to Battalion. Here we went catty corner splitting the two roads like an isosceles triangle, heading into dried up rice paddies and towards a jungle area where some tops of hooch’s could be just made out. When we hit the jungle area the Amtrac’s stopped and we were ordered dismount. This meant jumping down ten feet to the ground with our packs and gear on. This again is not easy someone whose 5’ 6” tall, carrying 60 pounds of gear and my M-16. But, some how, I managed to get off without hurting myself. This is how the area looked to us after hopping from the Amtrac.

Jumping off the Amtrac’s in the open with the brush up ahead, made me more than just a little nervous. Who, what and how many were watching us and what would they do?

     As we were disembarking from the Amtrac’s, kids began showing up and crowding around asking for cigarettes and chow. “What you name” they would say to you, and I’d say Bob and they’d say “Obb, you name is Obb?” Yeah I say, my name is Bob, “you nice man you souvenir me one cigarette, be number one Marine”. Sure I said to this nine year old or less kid I’ll give you a cigarette and I lighted it for him too. “You number one GI”, and other kids then would crowd around asking for cigarettes but my new friend kept them at-bay because I took care of him and he knew I couldn’t possibly give all of them a cigarette and have any left for myself. I guess to it was a way of testing you as to the amount of gear you were carrying and how long you’d be in there area, by getting or not getting cigarettes or chow and anything else as some would be selling cold sodas for a buck and I’d buy one being so thirsty for something besides water all the time. We weren’t in an area where we needed to save our money because it would be forever before we’d get a chance to get into Da Nang again.

      The Amtrak’s began pulling away, Bravo Squad took point for the Company, and we headed for the center of the village, it began to get dark. As suddenly as the kids had appeared, they disappeared. Alpha was behind Bravo and then behind us was the CP group and then Charlie Squad had tail end. We walked slowly into the Village and when most of us were in the center of the Village a cry came out from someplace just out of sight ( know it was from one of the kids we had just been friendly with) instinct took over and I  hit the dirt.  Lucky for me because I could hear rounds zipping by where my head used to be. Our new friends, the kids, had waited until we were in the middle of the killing zone to give the VC the signal to open fire. We opened fire right back at them.  We were trapped in the open on our bellies with rounds zipping all around us. “Get the guns firing on the hut over there and you M-79 men get some fir on those huts”. Yelled the Boss; he knew exactly what to do to get us out of the killing zone. No one spoke but concentrated on returning fire into the areas from which we were receiving fire.  We were giving as good as we got! Then, as suddenly and as quickly as it began, it stopped and there was an eerie quiet throughout the entire area. “Get up and move out the” Boss said and keep your eyes open. They may be setting us up for another little surprise.  Anyone hit or hurt”, no came back up the line to the Boss as we moved out of the village to the safety of some dried up rice paddies about a hundred years from the vile. We requested that a few rounds of artillery be fired on the village to thank them for their greeting but permission was denied.  It was a” friendly village. Friendly! If these are our friends, how is the enemy going to greet us? Lucky for us that they could not shoot worth a damn, they didn’t hit anyone.  Thank God! Had they been Marines, we would have been history.

We kept our eyes on the vile and surrounding tree lines and jungles, yet all was quiet. We began to set in here and as we did I went to third squad where I was talking to their squad leader “Stretch”, or John Ellingburg, Stretch was a better name to call this tall thin Texas boy or Oklahoma born son. As I talked with him he began to stand up and when he did, he caught a sniper round (which would have hit me in the face) right in the left shoulder and he fell forward onto me. I yelled “Mother Up”, Stretch is hit and the Corpsman came running without hesitation. We covered for the Corpsman while he treated Stretch and kept a close eye on our “friendly Village” where the shot had come from. God I was thinking, I hope Stretch is alright, if he hadn’t stood up exactly when he had, I’d be dead with a bullet in my face, this sniper could shoot, it was getting dark and the shot was from more then 150yards away.
     When the bullet hit Stretch, it sounded like a loud thud, or if a rock struck him really hard. Stretch was hurt pretty badly as we medevacked him out.  He never returned to us. He’d been in Country for sometime but that was our first casualty in this new area and it felt lousy. I just hoped that he would be OK. The Boss was upset; he did not like losing one of our squad leaders to a sniper because I wanted to talk to someone to take up time before we ran our nighttime ambushes and such. This all happened around the 6th of September 1968.
    The next couple of days went without too many incidents; but set the tone for our stay in the new AO. We would loose someone everyday from either a booby trap or a sniper. We would be fired on from Villages we had just been through but we could not return fire into the Village because they were “friendly”.  The booby traps were usually foot trap booby traps. These booby traps were in a hole about a foot in diameter and crisscrossed with pull friction fuses attached to a pull friction fuse inside 3 pounds of C-4 or plastic explosive attached to a dude 105-mm. Round or 155 mm round. When you stepped on this you’d fall to your crotch with the explosive going off right next to your torso, blowing you in half and killing you and anyone near you. They were dug in the sandy areas and covered with a small plastic piece that they get from the dumps of Da Nang from the wrappings of equipment that were brought in. Usually kids about 12 or 14 years old dug the booby traps and would even mark our way or movement and run ahead to set booby traps to get us. 
      The children of Vietnam were not like the children in the States. They were mature at an early age.  By the time they were of seven or eight, they were responsible for their younger brothers and sisters and they would often times be tasked with tending to a 14 month baby for the entire day. These kids were growing up in a war zone. Their family and their family’s family had seen nothing but war for 100 years.  No wonder these kids and their parents didn’t have the same value systems that we had. How could we expect them to adopt our way of living? Here were people that would live an entire life and never travel more than 3 miles from their village.  They got up at first light and worked their fields until dark.  All they wanted was to be left alone.  It did not matter to them who was in charge. Who ever it was would ask them to pay taxes for services they never receive and would draft their young to go fight in a war that they did not understand. Democracy meant nothing to them.  What mattered to them was staying alive.  Who ever were in their Village with a gun was in charge and it might change several times a day.  Marines during the day and VC during the night. They had to play both sides and that is what they did.

Stay tuned for more exciting firefights coming your way in the next several stories. These stories are written by Bobby Hingston, and Carl King.