|
I was stationed at Fort Polk La. in February 1969 when I received orders for VN. My tour of duty at Fort Polk had started in August, 1967 as a trainee in basic training, and continued as I became a Drill Sergeant training new recruits.
The day I received my orders started unlike any other day. We
had finished training earlier than usual and I had been asked to report
to the Company Commander's office. After reporting, the C.O. informed me
that orders for VN. had arrived and that a ceremony relieving me as
platoon sergeant of the first platoon would commence immediately
following evening chow. I don't remember saluting as I left his office,
but I'm sure I probably did. I felt like someone had run over me with a
deuce and a half truck. So many things were running through my mind as I
began to brainstorm not really knowing just what I should do next.
As per orders, I began out processing the next day. I received
my shots and went from place to place processing for my new adventure
until the next day came for me to go on thirty day leave. I began my
trip home not really paying attention to my driving and before I had gone
five miles I was pulled over by one of La's finest and given a ticket for
speeding. After paying the ticket in Leesville, I proceeded home which
took about two hours. These two hours had to be the longest in my life
as I tried to think of the best way to tell my folks of the news.
Upon my arrival, I asked my Mom and Dad to sit down and I
proceeded to break the news to them. Naturally, Mom went into her
bedroom to cry and Dad walked out the back door not saying a word leaving
me there not knowing which one to go and talk to. The first fifteen days
of leave I spent trying to keep myself occupied by hanging around with my
friends, but I could see nothing but pity and sorrow in their eyes. At
night, I couldn't fall asleep. I tossed and turned each night as the
weeks grew into days. I began staying away from my friends and started
spending more time at home with my family, but that was even worse. I
decided I had to get away from all this and made up a story about having
to report early to Oakland, CA.
As I put on my uniform to leave, I couldn't help thinking that
this could be the last time I'd ever see my family, my girlfriend, and my
home. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my composure and
the only way I felt I could deal with this was for me to be alone in a
strange place. Noone spoke a word as we drove out to the airport. I
constantly starred out the window as the scenery brought back memories of
a happier time in my life. As they announced my flight for boarding I
turned to my family and gave all but my Dad a hug trying to hold back the
tears welling up inside of me. Just then I turned to my Dad noticing
tears streaming down his face for the first time in my life. I reached
out my hand to shake his and as we shook hands he pulled me into his arms
and whispered, "I love you" into my ear. This struck me as very strange
because I could never remember him doing or saying those words to me
before. I broke away and walked quickly to the plane and gave my family
one last glance as we took off for California.
The next two weeks were spent seeing San Francisco and walking
the streets as I tried to think of how war might really be like. Try as
I might, I never could get the idea I would probably be killed out of my
mind. Soon it was time to report to Oakland and I caught a cab to the
processing center where I soon started my journey to VN.
The trip by plane to VN took about 22 hours with stops in Hawaii
and Guam for refueling. There wasn't much conversation along the trip,
but an occasional question to one of the passengers who was returning to
VN was mostly the conversations heard. We landed in VN at Bien Hoa
Airbase about noon. As I stepped out of the door of the plane it felt as
though I had walked into an oven. As I scented my eyes because of the
heat I could not believe the activity going on about me and the aircraft.
The date was March 27, 1969 and I was 20 years of age. After a short
trip by bus to Camp Alpha and more processing, we were soon assigned to
2nd, 28th Inf. 1st Inf. Div. currently operating out of Lai Khe located
in three corp. My rank was sergeant E-5, with an M.O.S. of 11-BRAVO
(Infantry).
Little did I know at the time that 1969 would come to be known
as the bloodiest year of the entire war.
My tour started off pretty quiet with me being assigned as point
squad leader. My platoon had been recently overrun by the VC in an
ambush gone bad. After several assignments and special training through
a stroke of bad luck, I found myself back with the same squad and platoon
in May.
Throughout the month of May we were involved in ambush after
ambush and it was on one such occasion I received my first wound. We
were searching for a particular trail to ambush and we could not seem to
find it. I was radioed and ordered to take out a couple of men to do a
clover-leaf of the surrounding area. As we approached the trail we
received fire. Haney was walking point, with me behind, and Lung
following me. Haney was hit by an AK-47 round in the right lower
quadrant of his chest. I immediately returned fire and I too was hit by
shrapnel from an RPG. Soon I was able to get Haney and apply a bandage
for a sunken chest wound. He was turning all blue and it was about that
time that the remainder of the platoon secured the area around us. We
soon secured a PZ and loaded Haney onto a medivac. I refused to go with
him as I knew I could get medical aid once we were extracted. That night
we set up an ambush at a distance from the PZ and I couldn't sleep
because I had Haney's blood as well as mine all over me. We blew an
ambush on one VC early that next morning and was extracted later that
afternoon.
I had gone over to VN with the most naive of attitudes and
beliefs. This quickly changed as I witnessed how the war was being
fought, and witnessed the wounding and death of so many of my friends. I
had many close relationships, but none proved closer than that
relationship I shared with Nuygen Van Lung, a Montenyard Nung who taught
me the ways of the Vietnamese people and their culture. After I had been
wounded three times and transferred out of the bush, Lung would come and
visit me and sleep under my bunk whenever he got a few days leave.
During our time out in the field, he and I were constantly together and
were always working as a team regardless of the situation.
June 13, 1969 was a Friday, and we were once again on an ambush.
OP's were sent out about 25 meters on both sides of the ambush site and
before I could reach for my weapon and RPG came down in the middle of the
ambush site. I was hit by shrapnel as we began to fire. Several men
were wounded and contact was quickly broken off. After securing a PZ and
the most seriously wounded were extracted, the remainder of the platoon
and I began searching for another ambush site.
This second ambush site was set up along a trail where there were
three B-52 bomb craters between us and the trail. Claymores were set out
and guard schedules assigned. I happen to have the 10pm to 11pm shift
and as I sat there memorizing the kill zone the blackness and silence was
interrupted by the sounds and sight of about 13 VC entering the kill
zone. My heart was pounding in my throat as I tried to decide if I
should let them pass or blow their lives away. I wondered if all the
mines would blow or if something not thought of would go wrong. Finally,
with the pushing of two buttons I blew all the mines. In one loud
explosion bodies were shredded and blown up into the trees and trail.
Once the dust cleared, myself and two others went out into the kill zone
to remove the bodies and separate them of their weapons. We threw all
the bodies into the craters, but while doing so I heard the last VC
moaning and groaning as he set up in the trail. Obviously still stunned
by the explosion, and unable to move I told everyone to get down as I
threw a grenade landing it in his lap. The next morning we searched the
bodies separating them of their personal possessions. I personally
retrieved a red NVA belt, a NVA ruck sack, and the wallet of one with
pictures of his family inside. We were extracted that afternoon and
flown back to fire support a Junction City. (click here for page 2 cont)
|
|
