|
As the choppers approached the landing zone, the NVA started to find the range of the LZ with their mortars. The rounds were falling almost inside the LZ and that meant that the NVA troops were probably within rifle shot as well. Things were starting to warm up and it looked like we would not have an easy time of it getting out on our choppers. As I was running to the chopper, I thought, this would be great, getting hit now after spending a day in Hell. Lt. Meale was a true commander of his men; he and Jim Hayden, his Platoon radioman went out into the open LZ first, to direct the choppers in for us. If the snipers were going to shoot, he wanted to know it before the choppers came in. It was a risky thing to do but that's why they paid the Lt.’s the big bucks. He was so busy making sure that everyone else got on a chopper that he and Ben almost didn’t get on the last bird out. Chopper pilots weren’t interested in waiting for the NVA to zero in on the LZ and were in a big hurry to get out of there. Getting airborne was a big relief, I can’t tell you how great it was to be sitting on the chopper freezing our buns off due to the cold from the wind coming through the glass-less windows and the open doors. The Ch-46 is a long chopper with two distinct blades, one in front, and a bit smaller one in the rear. With the glass removed from the windows, it was impossible to talk due to the noise from the wind and the engines. I think they took the glass out of the windows so there would be greater visibility, and the troops would have ability to shoot from more than one location on the chopper. The CH 46 chopper loads from the rear, as it has a hydraulic back end that it lowers so that the men can run onto the aircraft faster. These were the same choppers we had used to begin this “Operation Napoleon Saline”. It was my first Operation with Hotel Company, but it was not to be the last for us. The ride to Con Thien took only a few minutes, and as we were coming in for a landing, I could see the entire fire base. It was nothing but a brownish red mound of clay, littered with bunkers made of sandbags. There were trenches everywhere connecting the bunkers. These were for Marines to take cover in when the artillery rounds came in. Con Thien had made a reputation for itself many times, but more so during Tet Offensive in 1968, where its out post down below it, “Yankee Station” was over run, and quite a few Marines were killed defending it to the end. I don’t know how long we were at Con Thien, but I do know that I was hungry. I wanted food and cold water, and I wanted it now. I was starving; the evening meal had already been served, so all we could get to eat was the old standby C-Rations. Just what we needed, another meal of C-Rations. Hotel Company went 90 days without a hot meal at Khe Sanh, and we weren’t getting hot meals at Cua Viet, so we had hoped that we might get some “real food” at Con Thien. Such was not to be the case. C-Rations came in a case containing individual boxes of different meals. Each box had a small can of fruit or cake, as well as toilet paper, that was the next best thing to sand paper, and also these small packs of about five cigarettes. You were considered lucky if you got peaches, or if you had them you could trade for almost anything else. If you didn’t get pound cake, you got crackers and cheese; they were literally hard enough to use as weapons. Once we were issued our box of C-Rations and had done our trading, we separated out what we did not want, and got rid of the rest. To carry an entire box, took up too much room in your pack, and we never carried any thing we could not use. When in the bush, you carry a lot of weight, so selecting certain items from each box of food cut down on waste and weight as well. Everyone sat down to eat, after the squad leaders had the newest guys in each squad go get the C-Rations first. The order of choice went from the newest men up, making Fred and me, particuarlly fortunate. Of course we were first too, when it came to the lousy stuff that always needed to be done. We hadn’t received any new guys, as our squad was intact, and the ones that lost guys due to medevacks and rotations got the first new guys that showed up. Fred and I then would keep doing the worst jobs until we got a new guy, almost made you want to wish someone would have to leave so we could get a new guy and he’d take over the lousy jobs, but we'd miss out on getting first pick of the chow. A lousy job, was any job that needed to be done, and no one else wanted to do it. After we ate and disposed of any trash, we would usually talk about the day’s events. It is also a good time to relax and smoke a cigarette, without fear of being snipped at. Being inside the compound area of Con Thien felt pretty safe. It was a lot safer then being out in the bush, when being shot was always a possibility. Being in a compound surrounded by bunkers and barbed wire, that had mines in front of it, felt safe. This was a rare moment for all of us, as we huddled together in our particular squads and platoons. It was also a time that everyone would brag about what they had done or accomplished during the day, which was so unique, or difficult. Still being fairly new guys, Fred and I, we would listen to the more salty, or older guys, in the squad, relate their personal experience of the days events first. Each squad had its own little hierarchy of order, beginning with the person who had the most time in country and ending with the newest man. For us new guys, it was a good time to pick up hints on how to stay alive. Being there the longest meant you were doing something right. Learning about how to survive in Vietnam came from a combination of things; the most important being able to listen, and the willingness to learn from others personal experiences. War is hell, but there are times when the pressure was temporarily off, and making light of someone’s misfortune that day, could be a time to laugh and mentally escape the realities of war itself. The pressure of the war, and the possibility of dyeing, was with us most the time. We rarely operated where we were in a secure area, and we spent most of our tour in harms way. Even sitting here now, listening to one of the squad member’s talk or joke suddenly could be instantly broken up with an artillery round landing in the middle of the group. That’s the type of pressure that was a reality in Vietnam. We lived moment to moment – literally. We cherished anytime that we were able to relax, even for only a few minutes. Our war in Vietnam started the day we arrived and ended when we got on (or were put on) a plane headed for home. For a few, the war never ended. Some of my fondest memories, and saddest, are of the squad sitting together and talking about back home, or expressing a particular close call, or describing an ambush we had been in or kidding each other about some screw up. Bounds were established during these times, they were times when you learned something about a person that connected you to them personally. These moments were precious indeed. They were also the moments that caused the most pain. It’s a lot harder to put someone you know in a body bag! I guess you could say these relaxing moments were a double-edged sword; they made the squad members closer to each other, but made it that more difficult when someone was killed or seriously wounded. Life and death in Vietnam was synonymous. They brought you closer together yet and pushed you further away from each other. The fear of losing someone, who is closer to you than any human being in your life has ever been, could be realized in a matter of a second or two. Closeness was essential to staying alive, and functioning, as a cohesive unit, but it came with a price tag. The irony of it all, was that which you were incapable of doing, you did. How, is a mystery even today for me to explain? One day I was a boy, and the next a man. The war, for me, was a profound experience. I seem to be frozen in time. Chronologically, I grow older ever day, yet mentally I am still 20 years old. When I talk to one of my fellow comrades in arms, I see a youthful boy in an old mans body, that somehow just doesn’t match, but yet they are one and the same. My mind has been shocked into remaining the youth I was, as the rest of my body keeps up with time, and wrestles continuously in the nightmares of my life. Nightmares that I try to catch up to or try to runaway from. When they said war was hell, they weren’t kidding, as no matter how Hollywood tries to glamorize it, it just ain’t so. There does develop a love hate relationship with it though or at least in my case anyway. It brings the things of this earth to it’s simplest, yet it’s most complicated and mind boggling forms that exist in anyone’s life. In its simplistic form, it erases all worries of your average struggling working stiff's life, down into one neatly compact box of survival at any cost attitude. I mean if I were to receive a notice from a collection agency in my mail while in Vietnam, I'd laugh and say, what can they do to me “Cut my hair and send me to Vietnam”? Now, being here in the USA, if I were to receive the same notice, I'd start flipping out and trying to resolve the matter as quickly as I possible could. This all in order to maintain an excellent credit rating, which if tarnished could possibly keep me from purchasing a useless, unnecessary, recreational piece of equipment. An item, which, by the way, could or would not guarantee my ability to survive. In Vietnam, life was reduced to its most simplistic and most essential element known to all of mankind - survival. You insured this by any means possible, and necessary, in order, to hopefully return home. Once at home you could readjust your life style from one of simplicity to complexity. Here in the USA, a successful life is usually one full of as many complications as possible, while still functioning at a rate, which generates more complications. Now there, see how simple it all is? The one thing Vietnam did for me, was let me appreciate the most common and simplistic things that life has to offer. I, to this day, realize that having the ability to take a hot shower is truly a privilege, especially whenever, and as often as one might want to. To drive a car is a luxury, and to adjust the temperature around you is not available to everyone, therefore I appreciate it even today, 30 years after Vietnam. The Vietnam Veterans, I know are individuals who have learned to appreciate what the average person takes for granted. They also know that freedom does not come cheap. As we sat listening to each other's stories, and relating to the days events, the subject of the incredible heat seemed to dominate the conversations. A call for squad leaders up was heard, and it interrupted the group. What can they possibly want now with us, someone mentioned? We're here just for the night Ben Drake our radioman said, and I haven't heard anything on the “net”, a name for the radio. As far as I know, Ben said, we're heading out tomorrow for “Camp Big John”. Ben Drake was our squad radioman and usually spent most of his time in the CP, as he would fill in as Platoon radio man when Hayden was unavailable due to being sent to school in Da Nang for some reason or other. (Command Post), so if anyone had heard anything it would have been Ben. Jay said, Ben, see if there's anything on the net happening. Ben fiddled with a couple of different frequencies and then said what we all last wanted to hear, I think we got bunker watch. Bunker Watch! Fred said in a loud and disgusted tone. After all we've been through today they want us to stand bunker watch for them. Who'd be standing their damn lines if we hadn't come in tonight, Fred questioned? Everyone was totally exhausted. We had spent the day humping up hills and across valleys, chasing from one fictitious LZ to another, and then had almost been stuck under-manned in the DMZ for the night as well. It seems as if we're never given a break, Benny Belt said as he hung his head low in disgust and shook it from side to side. Even Jim was complaining and he usually never said very much at all, because everyone made fun of his West Virginia accent. I just lay back, and thought to myself, we never ever catch a break, we were the first to land in the DMZ and were the last ones out. There ought to be a way they can get us out of this one? Solomon returned and he was shaking his head and looked all upset as
well. He didn’t have to say anything; we all knew what he was going to
say. I don’t even want to hear it, Solomon said, we have that bunker down
there and the slit trenches on either side. The one thing we got going
for us is that we only have one two-hour watch apiece, so we did get a
bit of a break. Anyway he said, think of Echo and Fox Companies, their
still out in the DMZ and possibly we might have to go out after them tomorrow.
I have first watch Solomon said, from there Jay decides which he wants,
down to Fred and Hingston. That was unusual, as Squad Leaders don’t have
to stand watch at night; they are responsible for making sure everyone
is standing watch and no one falls asleep. He was standing watch so that
we would all get a break. The worst watches are the second and third, as
you just get to sleep and you got to get up and do your watch, it is the
most difficult time, trying to keep awake. The best watches are the first,
and last. These, your able to get an entire nights sleep without being
waken up. Interrupted sleep is the worst, as having to try to stay awake
is more difficult, and then trying to fall asleep again just doesn't cut
it. It is as if you didn’t get any rest at all.
All night long the flares were working out big time and there were a bunch of fire missions in the area where Fox and Echo Companies was located. Things could be worse; we could be out there like they were. Since Ben was with us, we had three radios, so that we set one radio to listen on our frequency, another to hear how Fox and Echo were doing, and the other we dialed in “Hanoi Hanna”. She was North Vietnam's answer to Tokyo Rose in World War II. Ben was good at finding all kinds of interesting things on the net for us to listen to while we stood watch, that was so we didn’t fall asleep and wind up being the star in our own court marital. It was amazing, while listening to Hanoi Hanna she mentioned our Companies names, and Operation Napoleon Saline, they had some damn good intelligence, as they knew more then our average guy knew in our Platoon. She talked a lot of how we were losing the war, and that our own Country was against us, and called us “Baby Killers”. We believed her to be full of lies, so we would basically laugh at the accusations she came up with, that which college students were doing back in the World. The sad thing, was what we thought were lies were actually what they were doing? Talk about a first, here we were putting our lives on the line, and watching the nations best, give there lives, so that the South Vietnamese people could have the freedom to determine what life they wanted, and our own people were accusing us of war crimes. If Vietnam war had been an actual war; they could face prison, even a firing squad, for their actions against our Country, and us. God knows what it was now, as it really wasn't a “Police Action” as it was in Korea. It definitely wasn't an all out war, although just as many of us were dyeing and being maimed as if it were. For what, so our own people could accuse us as “Baby Killers”? How can you win a war that your own people are against winning? It was definitely a sad state of affairs back home. Most of us did not know about the unrest at home, until we got home. We did not see the morning paper or gather in the campus lunchroom to debate the rightness or the wrongs of the war. We just did what we thought was right- we answered our countries call. Morning rolled around early, as it always does, I was as tired as I was when I went to sleep. Fred got up and started singing “It's a Beautiful Morning” by the Young Rascals, so I'd joined in. Everyone said we sounded like two hounds howling at the moon. Fred always had an incredible positive attitude, plus he loved it over here, we both did to a degree. I had always wanted to be in a war and now I finally was, and Fred was the same. Jay would get a kick out of us, as we were always eager to get to where the action was happening. It goes to show you what youth will do anyway. We knew we were in for a possible rescue of Fox and Echo Companies, and we were up for it, as crazy as it may sound. We just wanted to be where the action was, no matter where it was. We'd have gone all the way to Hanoi if they'd let us. No one could say our hearts were not in our work, we never even minded the pay, as there was no place to spend it, except a card game now and then. As we were getting our gear together, we got word that Fox and Echo
Companies made it in earlier that morning, so we didn’t have to go rescue
them. The call for Squad Leaders up came again, and we all waited to find
out what we would be in for today. As far as we knew, we were suppose to
get choppers back to Camp big John, and then gather our gear that was stored
there. From there, we'd begin our move to Da Nang, somewhere called the
“Rocket Belt Area”. To Fred and I, it sounded like it would be exciting,
as if there were that many rockets, then it meant that there would be that
many more NVA and VC to tangle with, and we were definitely up for that.
CONTINUED: Stay tuned to see what's coming next, with Hotel Company. Things are
going to start getting more involved with the NVA and VC. There would be
also something we were not use to up where we had been, that would pay
it's toll on many, before a lot of us would learn the hard way how to deal
with it.
Authors: Bobby Hingston and Carl King
|
