Arriving In-Country
I was drafted into the army on May 24, 1971 and sent to Vietnam on October 9, 1971. My MOS was 11C10 (mortars) and secondary MOS was 11B10 (Infantry).
I was stationed at Fort Ord near Monterey in California during Boot Camp and Advanced Infantry Training (AIT). A few of my friends from those days were with me on the plane. The guys in Fort Ord were mostly from California. One of the attributes of Nam, from the perspective of a drug addict was the availability of pure heroin. This buddy from East Los Angeles would use my locker every morning to “shoot-up.” He stood about 6’ 5” and was the biggest Mexican you’d ever see. His name was Lopez. I never could understand why anyone wanted to drug himself up to be so “down.” He would practically “nod out” during instructions. Another friend, Hernandez, was the golden glove of East Los Angeles and the three of us would have some great times. Other than that, I was pretty much a loner.
The flight to Vietnam was long, about 14 hours. While in the plane, we’d sit and mostly think. I was apprehensive and afraid because I didn’t know what to expect. We hadn’t heard enough while in the States to know what to expect. What ever the Army taught me while in boot camp and advanced infantry training, I listened and learned but couldn’t comprehend as a reality. It all went so fast. All the stories were foreign to my rational knowledge of civilization, from my childhood and life in America. I grew up as a simple island boy in Hawaii running barefoot when the islands weren’t so tourist intense. Life was slow and easy then.
We arrived in Cam Rhan Bay, Vietnam. The soldiers were deposited there, processed, and then disbursed to the various units throughout South Vietnam. As I got off the plane, the heat and humidity slapped me in the face and the realization flashed over me of how alienated I felt from all forms of society I knew at home. I knew from that point that every day was going to be a learning experience and I wanted to learn because I wanted to survive. I felt lonely because I knew I was very far from home and helpless against the big machine of the United States Army. The stars in the sky began to become my only link to the real world.
It was during the Monsoons, when the rains were thick and heavy and the air was warm and humid. We’d spend time sitting around wondering what was next and hear stories from GI’s who were short. When they were short, it meant they’ve spent their time in Nam and it was a “short” time before they’d be flown home. The term of service in-country was 1 year. When I think about 365 days, that is a long time. I knew how those who were short must have felt because already I was counting days. Starting so unbelievably high at over 363 days left.
I’d hear stories of Sapper’s that were the North Vietnamese equivalent to our Green Beret’s. Only difference was that the Sapper’s trained under real situations and learned fast. They were known for their strict discipline and infiltrating techniques. They’d hit a firebase or company in the bush then disappear. This was the beginning of my paranoia. I learned quickly who “cherries” were. I was a cherry. Someone new and who knew absolutely nothing about this place.
We were being processed while waiting to hear where we were each going. Still unclear of what was going on as I was when I first was drafted into the Army. Most of what I remember was that I was busy. Busy figuring out where the food or water was for showers, bushing teeth and how do we get money and always very attentive to what ever anybody had to say about the place. While walking to the mess hall we’d see so much activity for which we knew nothing about. One day there were smoke grenades of every color on the road outside the perimeter and trucks of men driving by yelling. I asked what the commotion was about and was informed those guys were on their way home.
Our orders came in and it was posted on a large board. At the time, the action was in Da Nang. We called it “Rocket City” because they would often take in-coming rounds from enemy mortars. Lopez was sent to Da Nang. He was overjoyed because he felt it would take him closer to the “pure stuff.” I was sent to Bien Hoa, which was outside Saigon, representing the “rear” for the 1st Cavalry (Airmobile). A unit that everything they owned was carried around with them on their backs. Their home was where ever they placed their backpack and they were called “grunts.” I carried an ammo box from an M-60 machine gun to keep my personal stuff in. It was watertight and that was where I kept my money, toothbrush, letters, writing material and other small personal items. A grunt leaving the country gave it to me and said it lasted him his tour and treated him good.
I did what I was told and listened well. I didn’t know where I was going or how I was going to get there until it was time. I was “in-country” less than a week when I was being shipped out to my assigned unit. I got in the back of a truck with a group of other cherries. We were part of a convoy whose destination was eventually going to be a firebase called Melanie. There were two jeeps with mounted M-60 machine guns and about six trucks full of troops. I remember being fully equipped with my M-16 ready to “lock and load.” I didn’t know how I’d know when the time came, but figured it would hit me. “Hell with it,” I said, and locked and loaded my weapon anyway, careful to keep the safety on.
The convoy passed through villages and it was almost as I’d imagined from what I’d seen on TV or seen in the magazines. We traveled through little towns and open fields. The poverty was widespread as people lived in cardboard homes but it seemed they were happy. I guess you could say, "you can't miss what you never had." Our presence in Vietnam changed that for the Vietnamese people as we introduced some of the western worlds niceties.
I was sitting in the back of the truck, behind the driver, facing toward the rear. The horizon was so beautiful like there was absolutely no danger or hostility in this country. I don’t think they knew what was happening in the field. They acted like everything was normal. I was waiting for a hint of trouble when all of a sudden the truck stopped. It stopped so suddenly; men were thrown off the truck. I saw glimpses of bodies flying by me as my head slammed against the back window of the driver. I jumped off the truck and took my weapon off the safety position but found that my legs had collapsed from under me. Two Vietnamese men helped me up; one on each side of me. They each had weapons, which made me a little concerned. I realized they were not trying to harm us and I looked around and saw fellow GI’s laying on the ground. Seems there were small weapons fire in front of the convoy. The sound of the shots alerted the driver of the first truck to stop. He stopped so suddenly; each truck behind him ran into the back of the truck in front. The collision scattered cherry GI’s all over the road.
As we drove away, I wondered what those two Vietnamese men thought of this man’s Army.
We made it to a
Firebase Mace (a Battalion size firebase along the highway) where we understood we’d be flown to a
Firebase Jeffries somewhere in the bush.
Seems the firebases
in Nam were named after a women or a person.
My First
Firebase
”Firebase Jeffries”
(Still a Cherry)
From the air it looked like a little city. Everything was either green or brown except for our flag that flew high. The tree line was pushed out about 300 meters to make a clearing between the jungle and us. Barbed wire surrounded the base with guard positions all along the perimeter. Along the perimeter were claymores and 50 gallon napalm drums ready for detonation by each of the guard posts surrounding the firebase.
There were pits where mortars and artillery units were set up. The mortars and artillery pits were positioned in clusters of three. Bunkers were scattered throughout the firebase where grunts slept. The bunkers located inside the firebase could accommodate from between 2 – 4 men. Bunkers along the perimeter could accommodate almost a platoon of men. The persons assigned to the artillery and mortar units practically lived on the firebase permanently. They lived in bigger bunkers, which would sleep one but have enough room for other niceties.
As I was trying to find the bunker where I’d drop my pack, I was instructed to attend a funeral in one of the tents. The minister was giving a prayer for a cherry who was killed that day by a round through his throat. His name was MaKowski (Pfc William John MaKowski, Buffalo, NY; b 16Oct51, KIA 21Oct71) and he had a wife and newborn baby back in the states. He never met his newborn baby and was in country less than a week. He carried the M-60 (machine gun) as they walked into an ambush. His weapon had a bipod connected and when he hit the ground to return fire, an enemy round ricocheted off his bipod and through his throat. He just turned 20 years old. This was another awakening experience towards realizing that maybe they weren’t fooling about this place and it was all real. Later, we'd build a firebase named after MaKowski.
When I reached my bunker, a strong sense of brotherhood engulfed me. The other GI’s and I instantly became close because of the sense of the real world we all shared and because of the circumstances we found ourselves in. We would talk of our hometowns and of the women we were missing. These young men were from all over the United States. My best friend was black and his name was Jesse. We came into Cam Rahn Bay together and were assigned to the same unit. After a month or so, Jesse transferred to Echo Recon. We’d share with each other how many days we had left in Nam. I had over 350 days left.
Echo Recon was a group of about 8 guys who would go out to the bush only when it was “hot.” These were the guys who would camouflage themselves and wait to ambush the enemy. They’d also bring back souvenirs of enemy weapons or body parts (ears). Each ear was evidence of a kill. Later in my tour I sat and visited with my friends of Echo Recon. Charlie Williams, Jr., (another friend from the states) later transferred to Echo Recon. He, and a few others, tried to recruit me into joining them. I carried the radio (Radio Transmitting Operator) and was called the RTO. The logic of joining Echo Recon was that you’d be with a smaller group who took their shot with purpose rather than a large group (a company of guys) who just would open fire aimlessly in the director of hostile forces and devastate the landscape. After your first hand to hand kill, it becomes addictive and this is what scared me to stay with the company. Besides, I was already sleeping in the middle of the perimeter as the company RTO. Of course, I started as the squad RTO which was tough because I slept at the outer perimeter of the company. When I moved to platoon RTO, I at least was sleeping in the middle of the platoon. It was comforting sleeping in the middle of three platoons after I was elevated to company and then battalion RTO.
There were little flat bed vehicles with large tires that roamed around the firebase carrying supplies from one point to the other. These vehicles were called "Mules." It was like a little city in the middle of no-where and the activity was high. Some of the bunkers were covered up and contained the “junkies” of the firebase. These guys would have vials of pure heroin (H) and they would pack their cigarettes. They would smoke it almost anywhere because it did not have a noticeable peculiar smell. I tried it once, got sick and vowed never to smoke the stuff again. I ended up vomiting in back of the “shit house” and floated back to my bunker. There I remained paranoid for the rest of the night. Vomiting behind the “shit house” was a common symptom of smoking H. I was lucky I wasn’t caught.
The artillery group lived on the firebase. They would have permanent bunkers to stay in and as a result had their “reel to reel” stereo and were able to keep pets. They’d most often keep little spider monkeys as pets as these animals were abundant throughout Vietnam.
At night we would gather in one of the guard positions and smoke some of the best marijuana available. A pack of 20 cigarettes filled with marijuana were available for $5. The packs were so well rolled it was like buying a regular pack of cigarettes only it was filled with “smoke.” One GI had a portable recorder recording our conversation for his girl back home while we passed the joint. Then all of a sudden, “willie petes” would explode sequentially around the perimeter of the firebase one after another until the entire perimeter was covered. Willie Pete was the acronym for white phosphorous. The beauty of the explosions awed us. Considering the condition we were in, the recorder recorded some interesting conversations.
A firebase was a place where a company of infantryman (grunts) would rest
until it was time for their next recon assignment, at which time a different
company would arrive for their rest. The
artillery consisted of 155 Howitzer artillery and would shake the ground each time a
round was fired into the jungle. 
And
each time, my eardrums would almost burst.
These explosions kept us company throughout the day and night.
The artillery was providing support fire for the grunts out in the bush.
Mortar rounds would periodically go off with their unique pop.
You’d look outside the perimeter and see Willie Pete (white
phosphorous) explode. The mortar
boys would pop these rounds off to discourage any enemy activity at the outer
perimeter of the firebase. Then the next day a team was sent out to recon the perimeter
and to detonate dud rounds found. We
didn’t want to leave anything for the enemy to use against us.
We had “fu gas” or as the protester’s back home called it Napalm Gas situated at various points around the firebase. Claymores were positioned almost everywhere outside the perimeter too. A claymore can be described as an anti-personnel mine that contained a large dose of C-4, a high explosive, with ball bearings in front of it. When the claymores were detonated, the ball bearings were blown out and destroyed personnel in front of it. The detonator’s where located at each guard position which always had someone there. We called the detonator's clackers. Communications was at all time checked for “sit reps.” Situation Reports.
Gun ships, huey’s with a M-60 machine gun mounted on both sides, would
come and go sporadically. Occasionally,
I'd see a Light Observation
Helicopter (Loach) hovering at treetop level with a
man hanging
off one side. He had a M-60 machine
gun strapped to him and was peering into the foliage. The wind from the blades of the loach would spread the treetops so the
gunner could see inside the foliage. Above
them hovered a Cobra equipped with automatic M-79’s (grenade
launcher), mini-gun (machine gun capable of approximately 6,000 rounds per
minute) and rockets on both sides. The
Cobra waited for the loach to drop smoke, marking an area, then the Cobra would
annihilate that area. They were called "Hunter Killer Teams."
One day we were ordered to get our gear ready, we were going out to the
Bush. We checked our weapons and
supplied ourselves with three days of food and water and plenty of ammunition.
The weapons we’d carry were available in any form we wanted.
All we did was ask for it and it was arranged.
The enemy carried a Russian automatic called an AK-47 so I didn’t think
it was wise for me to carry one. I
preferred the AK-47 to the M-16 because it was made of wood instead of plastic.
I chose not to carry any grenades because of the stories I’d hear about
the jungle and how the bush would pull pins out of grenades while still on your
vest. I carried about 8
twenty-round banana clips for my M-16. Eventually,
I chose, instead, to carry an old M-2 which was an automatic using 30-caliber
rounds. It was a little heavier than an M-16 but a lot smaller and
mobile. Eventually, I learned to
tape two banana clips to each other so when I needed ammo, I’d turn them
around and lock and load again. Under
any circumstance, I didn’t want to be caught short of ammo.
We all carried a Claymore and a trip flare of which we would learn later
what to use it for. I guess the backpack weighed about 90 pounds when it was
fully supplied. I eventually
carried the 
radio, which included a spare battery.
We’d walk outside the perimeter of the firebase and wait for the gun
ships to arrive and take us away.
First
Aerial Combat Assault (CA)
Five gunships would fly in at a time accompanied by two Cobra’s. This 5 gunships usually accommodated a platoon of men. Each gunship carried six grunts; two on each side and two in the middle. The personnel of the Huey, from the 229th Aviation Battalion, consisted of two pilots and two gunners. As I boarded the gunship, the sweat began to pour from the anticipation of getting deeper into a helpless situation.
While
in the air, it was glorious. The
wind pushing at my legs as it hung off the side of the Huey waving to my friends
in the other Huey’s was like free flying.
Some of the grunts would sit on their
helmets as they were told enemy rounds may come from the
jungle beneath us. The barrel of the M-60 hovering over the countryside kinda gave me a safe
and majestic feeling. Being part of
five gunships flying in proximity to each other, we’d take pictures of each
other while sitting in the next gunship over.
We’d look up and high above us were two Cobras’.
The countryside looked beautiful. It
was deep green and the sky was so clear. Far
away we could see rain clouds emptying themselves into the jungle.
Below were only green jungles and rivers.
Hardly any openings for landing were visible.
All
of a sudden one of the Cobra’s would dive
towards the jungle erupting
with all
its weaponry. The area below was
devastated with massive explosions while the Cobra’s mini-gun screamed and all of its
rockets poured into the LZ. Behind the first Cobra was the second who also followed suit.
I though, “my God, what could live through all that!”
Suddenly, the 
gunner’s of the gunships opened fire spreading their
rounds in the direction of the landing zone (LZ).
We landed and quickly got off the gunship to secure a perimeter so we
could receive the rest of our company. When
we felt the perimeter was secured we popped a yellow smoke grenade which was the
sign to the incoming troops to enter with caution.
At this point the Cobra’s were lower and circling the
outer perimeter of our LZ.
A red smoke grenade meant the LZ was "hot" and a green smoke grenade
meant everything was clear.
Three days had passed and we had walked about 8 kilometers (clicks) from the LZ. We had for the last three days set camp up and sent platoons and squads out to recon the area. We now had to find another LZ so the helicopters could drop off supplies. Landing Zones would often be found where large bombs had exploded and stripped the area of any trees and the surrounding trees were bare. Their leaves were all blown off from the explosion. It amazed me how up to 3 helicopters could land in one bomb crater. Usually areas cleared by white phosphorous were used. The brush and trees were all burnt and the ground was black. Somehow, the destruction of the place and its appearance made us feel relaxed.
Our supplies consisted of three days food and water, mail and a fresh change of clothes. We wore the same boots for the whole tour. After a while the black leather of the boots turned white and started to peel. This was a status statement as the older the shoe, it means the longer you've been in-country and that you were getting short. Very few of us changed our clothes because once we found something that fit, we kept it. This was also the time when we’d get our weapons in order. We also received 3 sodas and 3 beers. I’d always exchange my Beer for Pepsi because I was not a beer drinker. The exchange was very easy with all the beer drinkers in the company and the exchange rate got even better as I got a little wiser.
Log
Day in the Bush
When
mail time came, it was those letters and care packages from home that made our
day. I learned then how important
family was and how much I appreciated my Mother and Dad.
Cool Aid or cookies were popular because we’d get tired of water
everyday. The three sodas and beers
didn’t last more than a day. The
food consisted of both c-rations and lurps.
Lurps were dried food in plastic bags that we’d add hot water to and it would turn into
a wonderful meal; such as spaghetti (my favorite), beef stew, and some tasteless
food. Night smoking was not
permitted and we used little blue tablets to heat our food.
When we ran out of that, we’d use C-4.
Burning C-4 was great when the weather was cold.
I especially loved the fruit c-rations.
Peaches were the best. At
dinner time you can bet all the GI’s began bartering and you could see
different types of food being exchanged.
Each squad had one M-60 machine gun and each platoon had four squads. I was in Delta Company, 2/8 Battalion, 3rd Brigade whose headquarters was in Bien Hoa. Each company had three platoons. The platoons had names such as Skull, Rifle or Cat. I was in Skull platoon. Bien Hoa was located next to Saigon where the Air Force was situated. Our Captain (Skipper) was in charge of the Company and each platoon is run by a Lieutenant (LT). The Skipper always moved around with two radio transmission operators (RTO’s). The Company RTO would be in contact with each platoon and the Battalion RTO would be in contact with the Battalion Commander (Colonel). The enemy would always try to target the RTO first as they knew he was the communication guy and that the commanding officer was near him. I carried the radio because I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know when we were getting into a bad situation. I also knew that at some point I'd get to sleep in the middle of the perimeter when in the bush.
When
we set up camp, each M-60 represented a guard position.
(Remember, each squad had a M-60 and there were four squads in a platoon and 3 platoons in a company) All the grunts would position their claymores in a half circle in front
of the guard position with the detonating “clackers” running to the
position
of the M-60. We used plastic spoons
that we softened with heat so that we could bend them.
The plastic spoon were placed in the dirt and pointed to the position of
their respective claymore. In front
of each claymore was a trip flare. The
idea was that when a trip flare went off, who ever was on guard would detonate
the appropriate claymore and practically destroy what ever tripped the flare.
If I needed to use the bathroom, I’d have to take a shovel, a little
roll of toilet paper and a .45 caliber pistol.
I’d go outside the perimeter from one of
the guard positions.
I’d show whoever was on guard the shovel and toilet paper and he would
know what I had to do. The one on
guard duty would then call the other positions and inform them that I was out
answering nature’s call. We
didn’t’ want the person on guard to think we were the enemy.
At night, before we slept,
a forward artillery observer would call back to the firebase for marker rounds. The forward observer is a person who came from the artillery
group back on the firebase. He
would be assigned to accompany us out to the Bush and be the one to call
artillery fire from the firebase. Marker
rounds exploded at tree top level and were used to mark our perimeter.
If we were attacked during the night, we already had artillery zeroed in
and we’d ask for assistance by giving the guys back at the firebase the
position we wanted them to “fire for effect and at will.”
One thing I noticed was the first time I heard in-coming artillery
rounds, it sounded like in the movies as it whistled on its way in.
I slept on an air mattress but without the air. It was too noisy at night when a body moved on it. The only time we were allowed to fill our mattress with air was when we were on the firebase. While in the bush, I’d apply bug juice around the perimeter of my mattress. This helped keep the crawling bugs out of my clothes as I slept. I’d wake a few times with large black ants in my clothes.
At night I could hear the animals howling. I’d ask some of the guys who were in a while what kind of animal we were listening too. The jungles of Nam are home to many different types of animals. Elephants and Tigers further north, and monkeys, snakes and scorpions of every size. A yellow Scorpion stung me, which was about 6” long with its tail spread. While leaning against a tree on guard duty, it dropped onto my shoulder and then into my shirt. I didn’t realize what was happening until it’s stinger penetrated my skin. Intense pain! I crawled over to wake the closest man up and told him to watch the gun while I find the medic. I woke Doc up and he assured me I’d be OK. Some people get headaches and some get sick and vomit. He wanted to wait and see how I was effected. I waited and waited but I guess the barrage of inoculations I received before coming over helped. Whenever a grunt found a scorpion, he’d capture it and save it to put against another scorpion. They came in black and yellow.
We carried little transistor radios, which we’d listen to with the earplugs. Of course, I’d be in the center of the perimeter and not on guard duty when listening to my radio. Chocolate was a big item among soldiers and sometimes a spider monkey would drop out of the tree to steal a soldiers candy, radio or other small personal item.
In view of the firepower of our forces, it was still hard to sleep at night not knowing what to expect. While rolling my bedding up one morning, I hear a chop above my head. I looked up and a friend had decapitated a bamboo viper. We had camped in a bamboo grove and I didn’t think to expect bamboo vipers. Snakes took a toll from our presence. They were seen everywhere and the guy with the machete had the honors. Some of the snakes were up to 20 feet long.
I was warned that while on guard duty I should not fall asleep. We placed our lives in each other’s hand and if I messed up, or anyone else, it would be curtains. Kind of a self-check because after all, we were all pretty heavily armed. During cross fire, those within the group eliminated those persons who were felt to be detrimental to the survival of the unit. Turns out, no one was detrimental to the survival of our unit. This notion gave me relief when it was time for me to sleep.
After a while the human body adapts to its environment. Our senses become more acute and we can sense the presence of others. The nights were pitch black. I could not even see my hand in front of me, so before dark, we’d lay lines that would take us to the guard positions and we’d orient ourselves of our position. When it was my shift for guard duty, I somehow felt the other guy walking over to me and I woke myself up before he was 20 feet from me. Often, when I was walking over to wake the next guy up, I’d hear a hand hit plastic and have to verbally notify whoever it was that it was me and to not shoot. The M-16 reminded me of a Mattel toy that when it was dropped would break. Although the idea was to provide troops with a light weapon, many M-16’s would break. While treading through the thick jungle, these weapons would sometimes get stuck in the bush. While pulling it loose, it would sometimes drop and the stock would break. I immediately replaced my M-16 with an M-2, which was a heavier .30 caliber automatic weapon. It used 20 round clips which was the same as the M-16 and was almost a foot and half long. The weapon was made with a wood stock and a lot easier to maneuver around the bush.
The
man who walked point carried a .45 pistol and a sawed off pump shotgun.
Seems that if contact with the enemy was made, it was usually at very
close range (3 to 5 feet). This is due to the
darkness and thickness of the jungle. Occasionally,
we would have a dog team accompany us. The
dog and his handler would be close to the point position during maneuvers in the
jungle. The dogs would only respond
to
their handler and were amazingly bright.
I made it a point to sleep near the dog while in the bush.
I had great faith in the animal’s sense over mine.
We’d have another point man who was a North Vietnamese regular. He defected to our side and knew the terrain and could identify booby traps. The Vietnamese were known to build very functional traps because unlike the American who visits this country for 12 months, the Vietnamese have their whole life. They may spend either weeks or months building a booby trap that would hurt one American soldier.
We
all wore towels around our necks because we were constantly wiping the sweat
from our face. During the day our
fatigues were soaked from sweat. I
remember going to sleep drenched wet and waking up dry.
The nylon army issue blanket was light and kept me warm. It was very functional. Crossing rivers was often refreshing under the circumstances.
Our pant
bottoms were wrapped around the tops of our boots, then we'd use
shoe lace to wrap around our pant bottoms to seal it.
This was done to keep leeches or other small creatures from crawling up
inside our pants. It isn’t fun removing a leech from certain sensitive parts
of the body. Funny how we were so
concerned over the safety of our “baby maker.”
Most soldiers would talk about it and say they’d rather be shot
anywhere in their body but there. I
REALLY hated leeches.
The leeches were attracted to body heat.
No matter where I was, they’d change direction and head for me. Depending upon where it was attached dictated the method
we’d use to remove it. Usually
burning it off with a cigarette worked except if it were attached to sensitive
areas. If they were attached to a sensitive area of the body, we remained
patient and used the bug juice. The
leeches would attach itself to our body, fill with blood and drop off without us
feeling or knowing a thing. Consequently,
we checked ourselves regularly. Mosquito’s
were abundant everywhere. The sound
of them buzzing around my head at night made it hard to sleep.
My arms accumulated about 50 bites (no exaggeration) and I learned fast to sleep completely
covered by my nylon army issue blanket and to use the bug juice.
No one wore underwear because of the humidity and sweat. Jungle rot was a
common problem.
Our function was to act as a recognizance arm and to accumulate information. The arm would extend out into the jungle, sense activity, then back off and call for artillery. While on recognizance we were also supposed to find and destroy enemy caches. (storage where enemy food, weapons and ammunition were stored). The enemy would store their caches in caves, graves and in bunkers. In search of enemy caches, we would dig graves that we found in the jungle thinking this is where the enemy would sometimes store supplies. We found three graves and dug them up to find two Vietnamese villagers and one American soldier. The American had a cage around his head and intelligence says the North Vietnamese would try to draft personnel on their way south. The American was tied to a post with the cage around his head with two large rats knawing at his face. The North Vietnamese regulars told the villagers, “if you don’t join us, this will happen to you.” We figured two villagers did not want to join them. We’d run across enemy bunker complexes or even our own dud rounds from bombs or artillery and we destroyed them too.
We didn’t always get logged (resupplied) every three days because sometimes we couldn’t find a Landing Zone (LZ) for the helicopter’s to drop the supplies. We carried two types of pills to purify the water. This would be needed only when it became necessary to take water from a river or creek, which we often did. The purification pills had a very distinct taste to it. Sometimes we would settle for water sitting in crevices of large boulders. Even with the mosquito larva swimming around in it. Sooner or later, we’d acquire a taste for the pills. I rarely went past 5 days before being resupplied.
When it was time to get carried out of the bush, the troop spirits were high. Again, we’d find a LZ and systematically, five gunships would come in and carry teams out. The last team to leave opened fire in the direction of the LZ and this was like a release of frustration along with a sense of celebration. We called the trip in and the trip out a aerial combat assault (CA) which after 25 trips would earn us an Air Medal. Another 25 CA's would earn the trooper another Air Medal.
It
was understood that after six months in the Bush, a grunt would earn a Bronze
Star and after contact with the enemy we’d earn a Combat Infantry Badge (CIB).
The CIB is a blue medal, which looks like a reef with a rifle going
across it. All combat veterans wore this medal at the top of all others.
It was the medal that bound combat vets to each other.
Every 45 days we went to a small town called Vung Tao for three days of rest and recuperation.
From the firebase the troops would wait to enter a Chinook. A Chinook is a helicopter with two sets of blades and was also driven by two turbo engines. Each side of the Chinook had a gunner equipped with a M-60 machine gun. The back of the Chinook would drop down and the troops would enter.
The Chinook took us to an airfield where we’d wait for a C-160. The back of that plane would drop down for the troops to enter and then take us to Vung Tao. We were ready to raise hell and have us some women!
From the air field we were taken to the processing station the Army had
set up in Vung Tao. This was where
we could get some money, eat some hot food, take showers and swim at the beach.
We used Military Paper Currency (MPC) because the greenbacks
(regular
American currency) were recognized by all countries of the world and if the
wrong people got a hold of this, they could buy weapons.
The monetary currency of Vietnam was the Piasta.
There was a strange conversion that I never really understood along with
the strange sizes and colors of their currency.
During my first trip to Vung Tao I was excited and went to the commissary to buy a camera. The first single lens reflex camera I’d own in my life. It cost me $160. The exchange rate of American Greenbacks for MPC was 1 for 1. The exchange rate for a MPC for a Piasta was about 20 Piasta for 1 MPC. After I bought the camera, I bought little film holders that attached to the strap of the camera. I boarded a bus and proceeded to go into town. When I got there, I took many pictures. We would call young Vietnamese men “cowboys.” A cowboy approached me and asked me if I’d sell my camera to him. He offered me $250 MPC, which I accepted because I could go back to the commissary and buy a better camera. He quickly counted out $250, took the camera and disappeared on the back of a small scooter. On the way back to the commissary I stopped at a street vendor to buy those film holders only to learn that the cowboy gave me $1.50 worth of Piasta. The color of the currency and sizes were all different and very confusing. I was furious!
The town was corrupt and there were no virgins and you didn’t know whom
you could trust. All the girls
could be bought for $5 and the black market was very active.
The Vietnamese
weren't’t used to cameras, transistor radios or
recorders, soap, cigarettes and
other items we Americans took for granted.
They still didn’t accept the use of toilet paper when the Americans
arrived. I learned that I had to
carry those small rolls that I’d use in the Bush.
The Vietnamese people would squat in the shower or tub and wash
themselves each time they had to go.
When I walked out of a bar, about 20 Vietnamese children would surround
me and touch all over my body. The
idea was that it was all a distraction because others were removing your watch,
wallet or anything of value. Warned
of this earlier, I ran into the bar and called for
mama-san to help me.
You wouldn’t want to hurt a child and mama-san usually had control
because the children respected her. She
came out of the bar and scattered the children into the streets.
I went into my first Vietnamese bar and after the first girl touched me, it was all over. I grabbed her hand and told her to take me to her room. She treated me like a King and made sure all my needs were satisfied. I spent the night with her and the next morning asked her to show me around town. Of course, my feet were covered with mosquito bites as it had hung off the end of the bed all night. She agreed to show me around and wanted to go back inside for her make-up. While I waited at the front of the hotel, a group of fellow grunts drove by in a taxi and yelled, “hey Woo, c’mon, we’re gonna check out the town.” I instinctively joined them and forgot about the girl until I was a couple of blocks away.
The cowboys were young and very street smart. The Americans and other forces present in Vietnam resented Vietnamese men who were not fighting their own war. In a land of almost no laws, the cowboys were careful not to anger a GI. They’d try to pick your pocket or corner you if you were alone. I, on the other hand, felt sorry for these people because their country was so ravaged by this conflict.
In the bars, fights would erupt between the Australians and the Americans. This Australian unit wore berets and was involved with tanks. When the Australian gave you his beret, it was considered an honor. They were involved with anti-personnel carriers (APC's) and the larger tanks used to destroy occupied bunkers. The fights would be started by arguments over whose beer was better. The Ausi’s would call our beer American piss. Bars would be totally destroyed by the time the Americans and Australians were done. I didn’t drink beer so I didn’t give a damn what anybody thought about our beer.
A curfew was set for about 8:00pm where no one was allowed in the streets. At that time the militia came out fully armed and could be seen everywhere. I complained to my fellow grunts that these guys were armed and we had to leave our weapons at the processing station. We didn’t trust anyone! A few of the guys carried their .45 pistol anyway.
The taxis were little three wheel vehicles with a motorcycle engine with a little flat bed with seats at the rear. Most of the people in Vung Tao traveled via motorcycle, scooter or bicycle. When I entered a taxis the second time I visited Vung Tao and asked for a certain hotel, usually the best one in town, the driver took me to a different hotel who had already paid him to bring GI’s there. After all, we only heard which hotel was the best but had the slightest idea on how to get there. Turned out, the taxi took me to the same hotel I stayed at the first trip there. The girl I was with the first trip out was there yelling, “hey! I know you.” I was very embarrassed and wanted to get out of there fast. I started yelling at the driver, “this isn’t the place I wanted!” “You want to get paid, then you get me out of here NOW!” I got out of the taxi and started walking. The driver chased me down and apologized. In the meantime, the girl was walking towards me while I was trying to avoid her. The cab driver quickly got in his cab, brought it around and I jumped in. Away we went to the original hotel I wanted.
From the 6th floor of the hotel, I could see almost the whole town of Vung Tao. I could see down into the wet and dirty streets. Clothes hanging across streets and between buildings and street vendors up and down the streets. Fishing vessels out in the bay were plentiful. Each floor had a “house boy” who would make sure the hotel guest needs were met. Almost anything we needed or wanted, we would have.
The old churches and some of the buildings were built beautifully with the obvious French influence. Their sewers were antiquated and had to be cleaned out manually. Because of that one element, I didn’t trust what I was eating. They had these duck eggs with partially developed chicks in them and the Vietnamese would eat these eggs as if it were a delicacy.
Over time, subsequent trips became more entertaining because I learned my way around. It became an adventure that I exploited more and more as I learned how.
I made some friends in Vung Tao, a small family with about 6 kids. The little boy would be my guide and interpreter and warn me of the common ploys in town. He introduced me to other villagers and the family would feed me some great food. I love rice, so we hit it off quite well. I’d do them favors like bringing a small recorder/radio to them from the commissary. I’d bring stuff like soap, cigarettes, chocolate and shop at the commissary for them. Almost reminded me of the days when I was a kid growing up in Honolulu, Hawaii.
When the three days was over, we surrendered ourselves back to the bush
and to learn who needed Penicillin and who didn’t.
What I
learned
When we came back from Vung Tao, a few needed Penicillin to handle the venereal disease they caught. These shots were administered in the bush by having the grunt pull down his pants and take his medicine. Small price for the pleasure.
Every morning Doc would go around and hand out pills. These were pills that contributed towards preventing malaria. Each Monday he’d give two pills to each of us. One big one and the usual daily pill. A few guys, who had caught malaria, would have to be flown to Bien Hoa to wait out their recovery. Seems the attacks from malaria would seize someone off and on throughout their life.
I’ve made many friends from all parts of the States. The medic, whom we called Doc (Diaz), was from Chicago. A machine gunner (Yokum), who carried the M-60, was from Tennessee. You had to be pretty big to carry that weapon because it was very heavy. Of course there were exceptions. We had the company drug addict who wasn’t worth the uniform he wore. He was from Miami and eventually talked himself out of the Army. Another good buddy was Mitch who was a point man. Mitch was pure Apache so I called him Indian. There were the studious ones from Boston or Massachusetts, very nice guys who didn't make it home.
What angered us intensely was when we’d find an enemy cache and it consisted of canned food sent by the People of Holland; or San Diego or even Los Angeles. Jane Fonda was very much resented for her ignorance. We hated the protestors because they were so naïve. The protestor’s would protest the use of Napalm, but that kept us alive in many cases. What the protestor's didn't realize was that they probably contributed to the casualties by their protest than help. It was a political war and we weren't allowed to just take care of business and win. How else could we “fry” a whole battalion of North Vietnamese regulars on the next ridgeline if it weren’t for Napalm?
The bunkers of the enemy were built with incredible craftsmanship. We had to admire their building capability with material supplied only by the jungle. When we encountered an enemy bunker complex, we'd yell for anyone inside to come out. After a few moments, we'd throw a grenade inside, then send someone in to clear it. I don't need to tell you there were casualties. Often there was someone inside the bunker. In one instance, I remember we killed a woman an her child. They were in the bunker and did not answer our calls. It was sad that we didn't have any humane thoughts back then. It was a casual matter of fact and we just moved on. There was no sadness of the loss of life when it was considered enemy. We did, however, destroy the bunkers by digging a hole in the middle of the bunker then inserting a canister of gas, which we blew into the bunker. The explosion would collapse the bunker and the gas was blown into the bunker to prevent it from being rebuilt. We'd use a high explosive lines as a fuse that was made of C-4. When detonated, all the bunkers would explode instantly and simultaneously. The trees around the explosion would all lose their leaves after detonation. Above ground living quarters were constructed similar to the type of building of the tree house in Walt Disney’s Swiss Family Robinson. When we entered this type of complex, we’d sometimes find a hot bowl of rice on the table and a small fire going. We would know then, that the complex was occupied and preceded to search for caches. Very often we’d find piles of empty snail shells. These snail shells would always be piled at the base of a large tree. The Vietnamese ate these snails and we’d pick one and wear it around our necks. These shells could only be found in the jungle and was very colorful. It could be shined clean. While in Vung Tao, a grunt was identified by these shells around their neck.
In the early days of the war, when the French occupied Vietnam; bunkers were close together and built to defend against hostile ground forces. When the Americans came in with their bombs, the Vietnamese adjusted by building their bunkers far apart. We’d find bunkers a mile apart over acres and acres of land. Today, we’ve learned of the complex network of underground tunnels open to the public as a tourist attraction.
While squads or platoons were out on recon, guard positions were always set up. It was the most boring task to sit and wait, and wait, and wait. I would entertain myself by feeding bugs to other bugs. What I didn’t want to see anytime in the bush was a loose chicken wandering around. Especially if the chicken had a broken string attached to its leg. This meant there was an enemy complex near and that one of the Chickens got loose. Of course, we’d capture the Chicken and eat it ourselves.
While the recon teams were out, we always knew where they were so we also knew where no one was supposed to be. At times, a team would call in and inform us that there was noise from a certain direction. The command would check the maps and verify that it wasn’t ours. Upon receipt of this information, the recon team would dig in and open fire in the direction of the noise and totally devastate the area. Some carried M-16’s with M-79 grenade launchers attached below it. Assistant gunners, who carried the ammo, would feed the M-60 while the gunner operated the weapon. Each platoon was equipped with at least one Law. The Law was a self-propelled rocket encased in a collapsible tube. To activate, we would open the tube, aim and fire. It’s primary use was against enemy anti-personnel vehicles. I was told in Advanced Infantry Training (AIT) that the rocket would burn through 21” of steel.
One evening a report came in of some activity outside the perimeter. We were sent out to recon the situation and found a rubber tree grove. We verified that the grove was inhabited by Vietcong but was instructed not to engage the enemy because of the economic value of the trees. We were instructed to return to camp. We popped a few rounds from the M-79 into the grove anyway.
One morning, while in the Bush, I was awakened by the detonation of a claymore. It was early in the morning when it was very quiet. Even the animals were asleep when the claymore exploded and shook the ground I slept on. My immediate concern was where was my weapon and where was my ammo. Along with everyone else, I grabbed my weapon and prayed it was a false alarm. A deep sense of insecurity surged through me when I know something is wrong but I don’t know from where. I patiently waited to see what would happen. Already knowing why a claymore would detonate, a recon team was sent out and found a blood trail. The recon team was instructed to follow the blood trail to find out who the intruder was. There was always something at the other end of the blood trail. In this case, it turned out to be a Baboon.
We didn’t always return to the firebase we left.
Sometimes, we were dropped off in an area where a new firebase would be
built. Observation Points
(OP’s)
were set up around the perimeter to secure the area while the Corp. of Engineers
brought in their heavy equipment and started pushing dirt walls up and clearing
a perimeter. While I was part of
the OP with Doc, I was leaning back against a tree reading a fuck book.
Reading sex books was the largest pass time in Nam for grunts.
Doc took a drink of his canteen when he saw a Vietcong staring at him. He practically froze but was able to get the words out that
there was someone at the tree line. Before
I could call in the sighting, Doc had opened fire. I was 
then informed that another OP was receiving return
fire. There is a distinct sound of
a round that is fired towards you and one that is fired away from you.
I began firing my weapon in the direction of the intruder.
All I heard was my own weapon and the primary directive was to keep the
rounds going as fast as I could. I
would lock and load fresh clips as fast as I could and see fellow grunts
dropping down at our side and contributing to the thrust of our destruction.
Doc would call for a clip and I'd throw him one. It was all moving in slow motion and the intense loudness was almost
muffed as the focus was in returning fire.
After we had exhausted our ammo short of a few last clips, we felt
satisfied that whoever it was could not survive such destruction.
The intruder carried a weapon and
that gave us our license to fire.
A Cobra was in the area so was called in to assist.
The pilot confirmed the sighting of two Vietcong guerrillas’ carrying
weapons running down the path. The
two disappeared into the foliage and got away.
The firebase we were building would be called MacKowski. Weapons
fire between the enemy and our troops were called "fire-fights" or
"contact." Skull Platoon didn't experience casualties during my
tour except for McKlowsky, whose funeral I attended when I first came
in-country. Later, I'd hear of casualties from Cat Platoon that I probably
blocked from my memory after I came home. Charlie Company seemed to have all the bad luck with wounded
coming back after being ambushed a few times.
Sometimes we would fly into other firebases to rest.
One was near a bridge with a firebase at one side of the river and a
mini-firebase at the other side of the river.
The river was great because the water was cool.
The artillery group would play games by aiming at 
branches on trees with
their Howitzers. These trees would be far in the distant tree line and when
these guys fired, they didn’t miss. Amazing!
I was amazed by the accuracy of such a large weapon.
The 50 caliber machine gun had bullets the size of my hand.
It would be mounted because it was terribly heavy.
This machine gun would literally cut trees down.
Personnel who lived on the firebase enjoyed a shower more frequently than the grunts. The way to take a shower was with a tripod about 6 feet high with a container that would hold water at the top with a small sprinkler. A GI had to carry water to the container and fill it, usually about 8 gallons, then take his shower as fast as possible. The shower was located in the middle of everything and was not private. While flying back to the firebase, there was a GI taking a shower and the worst thing to happen is for someone to be caught taking a shower while the gunships were arriving. You can imagine the man scurrying around to refill the container while the dirt and dust dried on his body. He was probably a cherry.
At the firebase lived a special team of men who would be sent out only when enemy activity was eminent. This team was called Echo Recon and where Jesse was. I’d see Jesse periodically when our company came into the same firebase as his and he wasn’t out on a mission. Jesse had joined Echo Recon because he felt more secure being with a small group of guys who knew what they were doing rather than a large group of guys who didn’t. A few members had approached me and wanted me to join them as their RTO but I declined. I was already the company RTO and sleeping in the center of the company. After a man kills with his bare hands, he seems to revert back to his primate instincts and begin to love this activity. Collecting an ear of the enemy was proof he had of each kill. The collection of ears was associated with the size of our balls. He would become preoccupied with when his next kill will be and live for that moment. I didn’t’ want to condition my soul to hold this type of attitude. I started by carrying the radio for squad, moved my way up to platoon RTO, then Company and finally Battalion RTO. I knew what was going on from carrying the radio and besides, I was short. My primary MOS was mortar and my secondary was Infantry. After six months in the bush, a soldier could ask to be assigned to a job within his primary MOS. I asked for my primary MOS hoping for the firebase but was sent to Bien Hoa as the company clerk because I could type.
We would fly into already occupied firebases belonging to other countries. We took over a Thailand firebase and found that these guys knew how to build bunkers. We tore the firebase apart and rebuilt some of it. We had a field day with rats when we tore the bunkers apart. Thousands and thousands of rats that we flushed with kerosene. They were running all over the place burning and GI's would be chasing them with bats and crushed them on sight everywhere. This firebase would be named Melanie.
Another country who participated in ground maneuvers in Nam was the Republic of Korea (ROK) Army. We referred to them as the "Rock Army." Very well respected and feared, this army had a reputation of being the strictest and most disciplined of all. Their methods in dealing with the North Vietnamese were ruthless. They were very effective in the psychological warfare against the Vietcong and North Vietnamese Army. The effectiveness of the ROK Army was due to the religion of the Vietnamese. Buddhism requires that when a person dies, his body must be intact in order for Buddha to recognize him for reincarnation. If he was not recognized, he would not be reincarnated. Reincarnation was important to the Vietnamese and this had a very profound impact on them. Consequently, the ROK Army would dismember their enemy in addition to keeping fresh killed bodies hanging over the entrance to their firebase. They decapitated their enemy and set the heads on posts outside the perimeter of their firebase. The dismemberment of the enemy was done to psychologically defeat the enemy. Of course, the Vietnamese used this same tactic on the American soldiers who fell into their hands. I was told that when the North Vietnamese learned that the ROK Army was on a certain hill, they’d go the other way. Needless to say, I felt safe when they were around. Just like in Vung Tao.
After six months in-country, a grunt could take one week off. He had a choice of Thailand, Honolulu, Japan, the Philippines or Hawaii. I chose Hawaii because I was born there and raised there and hadn’t returned since I left in 1966. I spent all the money I had saved while in Hawaii because I wasn't sure whether I'd come back. It was tough getting back on the plane to return to Vietnam. After I returned from Hawaii to Bien Hoa, the company clerk asked me why I came back. He said that my orders came in to go home as part of President Nixon’s early out program. I immediately went to Saigon to take the plane home. That was the first and last time I had the opportunity to see Saigon.
I got out of Nam with an Air Medal, Combat Infantry Badge, Bronze Star,
Army Commendation Medal along with the usual service medals.
I spent my 20th birthday and Christmas in the bush during the
monsoon weather.
Back Home
I
left Vietnam on April 15, 1972 as part of Nixon’s early out program.
On May 10, 1972 my entire platoon, including the command post, was killed
while in a Chinook. They were on their way to Vung Tao for three days of R and R
when the fatal accident occurred. The
Army reported the incident as an “administrative accident” while the letter
I received from the then company clerk states that the Chinook was hit by an
enemy mortar round. The RTO's in the Chinook were all the position I held. If I
was still there at that time, I wouldn't be here now.
I was at Fort Carson, Colorado when I received a letter from the company clerk informing me of the accident. When I learned that it was my platoon, including the Skipper, his company RTO and the battalion RTO, I decided my service in the Army was over. After going AWOL a few times, I was allowed to type up my discharge under Article 635-212 SPN 46A, Honorably Discharged.
I wrote this for my children and to cleanse my soul by memorializing my brothers lost in a foreign land and to make sure I don't forget the 28 guys of my platoon who didn't make it home. All in ages from 18 to 21 years, at the beginning of their lives, they shall never be forgotten. This narrative is intended to illustrate how we operated in Vietnam. We, living in the United States ("the World"), have so much to be thankful for. Robin D. Woo