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My first duty in country was to burn the crap.
Nothing like a half of a 55 gallon drum filled with crap.
Fuel oil, gas, paper and a long stout stick.
I learned this myself, never and I mean never put the gas in first with the fuel oil second.
The gas goes to the bottom of the drum of crap and the fuel oil floats on top.
Fuel oil doesn't ignite easily.
That means you have to "stir" the burning paper around with the stick hoping to start a fire.
Now gas on the other hand really does ignite, like PUFF!.
You are standing there above a gallon of gas mixed in a batch of 20 gallons of crap.
Crap, toilet paper, and more crap will go flying.
Needless to say I was covered from head to foot.
I can still here those old timers laughing.
I can't locate this creature anywhere in any books.
I can remember an orange centepede type thing about 12 to 16 inches long.
Darn things lived inside damp sandbags.
At each move, we would have to ash and trash the LZ.
I can only recall getting bit, stung or whatever twice.
But it felt like a jolt of electricity from my fingers to my shoulder.
Anyone else remember them?
Sometimes I try to think of how many sand bags I helped fill.
It had to be thousands and thousands.
Regular cloth were easier to tie and stayed in place better.
It didn't take any real knack to fill a sand bag, but there were few things more boring than holding a sand bag and your buddy just couldn't get any large amount of dirt casinos in reno nv the bag.
Why did we call them sand bags when they were filled with dirt.
We had tricks "of the trade" too.
читать put 18 rounds of ammunition in a 20 round magazine.
Always put one of the black plastic caps on the flash surpressor of your M-16 to keep the muck out.
Wooden artillery ammo boxes could be converted into anything.
In place of sandbags, hooch floors, walkways, table, chairs.
My mind went blank, what else did we use ammo boxes for?
Anyone remember those late night and early morning unauthorized radio conversations about being "short".
There was someone always shorter than I was.
I scratched it so much and so hard that any V.
The monsoon crotch rot had me big time!
Pure rubbing alchohal rubbed on where its red and bleeding will make a new man out of you!!
I scratched it so much and so hard that any V.
The monsoon crotch rot had me big time!
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I scratched it so much and so hard that any V.
The monsoon crotch rot had me big time!
Pure rubbing alchohal rubbed on where its red and bleeding will make a new man out of you!!
I remember nights listening to Hanoi Hannah broadcasting Jane Fonda while she presumed to proselytize us fighting, to throw down our weapons because we were actually "war criminals" engaged in "war crimes".
And I remember the countless discussions that would ensue after listening to that crap between us, in the infantry and LRRPs, about exactly what we do to Ms.
Fonda if we could but just get our hands on her right that moment!
This is on the humorous side.
Everyone loved the monkey and the monkey loved them.
He didn't like me for some reason.
Every time I would walk by his A.
He knew I was afraid of him.
One morning he was found dead, hanging by his leash.
I never did convince the platoon that I didnt kill the monkey.
His name was TOP.
It is said that truth is stranger than fiction.
This story really is.
Two of my friends and I joined the Army out of Abilene, Texas on 29 Jul 69.
We went to Ft.
Bliss for basic training.
We completed training, one, Ricky Sutton, went to arty reno tahoe best bets magazine at Ft.
The second went to water purification school, I think this was at Ft.
I went to Little Creek, Va.
I transferred to Ft.
Polk in the middle of March.
Next stop, you guessed itViet Nam.
I flew from An Khe to an LZ, who knows where.
I was just barely 19 and scared of everything.
I jumped out of the helicopter with all the equipment.
My friend from Sweetwater, Texas, population 11,000.
I spent the night with him in the culvert.
I didn't know outgoing from incoming.
We were mechanized and at times we would break bush and get rained on by red ants.
It did'nt matter who or what was around, all we could do was jump off the tracks and strip to beat the ants off.
Those ants tried to eat us alive.
Some times the littlest things can be huge monsters.
Of all the things that happened to me in Nam I can remember that some times Charlie was'nt the worst enemy.
We were mechanized and at times we would break bush and get rained on by red ants.
It did'nt matter who or what was around, all we could do was jump off the tracks and strip to beat the ants off.
Those ants tried to eat us alive.
Some times the littlest things can be huge monsters.
That series was so full of BS and lies, it was no wonder a media watchdog group in Washington DC, produced a special about the series.
Even more amazing to me that the major media TV and print folks, never issued an apology for the lies they told or printed.
I donated my only copy years ago to the Metal Of Honor Museum, in Chattanooga.
I wish I had made a copy of it to show people, who saw the 13 part series as part of American History Classes, in many colleges around the USA.
I am glad sites like yours are helping to setting the history records right.
I was a navy corpsman, I have been shot at bitten by a snake scared the --it out of me.
But a cetepede put the doc down for a couple of days.
I picked up my shirt and a centepede bit me thru the shirt.
I thought I had picked up a snake until I shooked it out of my shirt 10 in.
All night long I was trying to get my sling adjusted on my M-16.
You know how we put it on upside down so we could support the rifle with the shoulder and still have it in a ready to fire position.
All night long I adjusted and re-adjusted.
First it was too long then too short, then the buckle would slip.
Never did get it right.
Less hear some stories on this sight.
We are still on chapter one.
Less write a book and share our stories,with everyone DOC I Had a buddy ofmine stationed In Saigon with the 716th Mp bn One night I was coming off Perimiter guard duty, My buddy called me from Saigon I had finished eating dinner,and one of the guy told me someone on the phone in the unit orderly room in Saigon I got on the phone He said yo Fred I responded Pete?
Hey buddy whats up?
We are both railroad enthusasist back in Philly my home town Anyway were were discusing our hobby for two solid hours and if the VC picked up our signal they wouldn;t know what it was all about It was all about Trains street cars and subways etc The irony one say at my present job I was reading a model railroading magazine and a Vietnamese woman i work with told me she knew a guy who was a supply clerk who read material I ask what outfit she told me 716th Mp Bn I told her I had a buddy of mine there I asked her his name and she told me Peter Kurtasz I aske is he from Philadelphia she sais yes I spelled his name she said yes she described him to a tee then she told me he was discussing railroading to a guy in an engineer unit in Dong Tam I told her i wasthe guy he was talking to her mouth dropped a foot wide I thought if this dont sum it all up I told her he was working for the Transit athority in my Home town repairing rail cars he has been working for the Transit authority since he left the service I saw him at several Model railway shows and meetings I think this is one for the books RATS I've seen rats then there are the rats in nam one night about dark Charlie Harper and I watch ed the biggest rat I ever layed my eyes on crawl into the end of a culvert.
We pored the better part of two five gal.
And threw a match or two at it when it went off it shot flames and rat for thirty feet we just layed in the mud and died laughing untill a command Sgt Maj came crawling around the end of the fence.
He did not think it was so funny and swore he'd have our stripes.
He never got them I like your story a bout the centepedeIn fact I was with the 27 th romen plow 67-69 in nam.
I was tdy for a dayi had to push up a new burm for the ARV at this SF camp and what was left of it was some sand bage bunkers that Charely didn't quiet get.
I was done and back up the slope and the women and men from that sit came in with hand hoes and did the finesh work to the edges on the in side, may be about fifty people.
Some one went in to what was left of one of those bunkers and the biggest red burnt orange centepede came running out like a train the dame thing was as big as my wrist and all of 10 inches long or morethere was not one person in there that wasn't running as though it was there life at stake,they were really carrying on screaming and all finally one of the ARV grabed a hand hoe and did the deed.
Let me tell you if you were bit by this thing it would kill you and there isn;t a thing any one cuold reno tahoe best bets magazine that sun of bitch could kill a horse.
That dam thing is a killer.
I had bugs on me and for the lack of a better word for them they all were bugs.
One of the most amazeing one;s was abug that looked just like a tree branchnow here in this country they are small and thine over there I had the whole family with me for untile I realized the dam sticks were alive.
One of them was as long as my shine lage about half the size of a hot around.
The rubber tress had spiders in them you needed a fourty five to kill them with a might over kill but all the same it was the wepon of choice.
But those spiders buyVietnam standerds is still smallMy ploton leader and CO jump on with me one after noon thinking we were going to come around back of the kooks in a roman plow any one in there right mind isn't going to stay around for you to run them in if they can help itThat isn't the storywe broke through a samll clearing and the biggest damdest almighty f--king spider you ever seen was in a web that was higher then the cab of my PlowI stopped screw charley this spider was between us and I had no planes of going through the web this thing was as large as your forarm and al most as long at least from your whrist to the elbow the dam legges were farther out then a tolet seat.
WE went through and I was screaming as if I was about to become a pork chopThe CO was holding on for dear life.
I had one of those black shit bugs with the three hornes on its head a bout as big as your fist hit me in the chest one night I guess it was doing a fly by or some thing I didn't know they flew until then.
I had no tee shirt on and I didn't get bit but I did a dance that would of put you in the grave.
WE knocked down so much stuff that most of the time you didn't know what was infront of you just about every one has a bug story.
But I think I have the biggest fish and how a bout the tree lizerd as big as crock any one get chased by one and do you know that they can really run given the right sercumstances and up at LIA KA they had a lizard race one daytherewas a circle set up and easey the first one out wines no problem ,The big day every one runs and finds a tree lizard the kind you can pick up with your fingersbut not my buds a couple of days earlyer they loaded one up in the bucket loader the size of a middle sized crock and through it in the circle or I should say dumped it in the dame thing didn't hgardly make a move but the little one well They are still running as fare as it looked when they let them go.
I had one charge me in the teak woods foest one day while I was kneeling beside the tree I droped my rifle and fell on my ass and hell I had no where to goI said to my self it ant Charely who's going to get its the dam inverment well kill me I flaged a PCand I said thats it I done for the day some else can do the groudyou can shoot me I ant going in there.
I went back the next day but I wasn't looking for kooks and I was ready I was going to shot any thing that looked like a tree twig and if it moved it was toast Greetings to all Veterans - Someone e-mailed me with this site so I could post my message but I wasn't in Vietnam.
I wasn't even born when the war ended.
But I could use as many Veterans input as possible so here goes.
My name is Elizabeth Pelland, most people call me Liz and ever since my senior year of high school I've been fascinated with the Vietnam War.
It was at our Veterans' Day assembly, when one of my teachers who was a Vet, sobbed his way through a poem, when I first knew I wanted to learn as much about the Vietnam War as I could.
At the time, I didn't understnad why we never learned about the war in the classroom.
I was born the year it ended, yet I knew ten times as much about Columbus than I did Vietnam.
And I could have cared less about learning about a guy who's been dead for centuries when I could have been learning the history of people who are still living.
When I went nevada slot tournaments college, it was the same old story.
There weren't any classes offered about Vietnam.
My senior year of college, I discovered my passion for writing.
My dream was and still is to become a screenwriter.
So here I am and I bet all of you can guess where this is going.
I'd like to write a screenplay about the Vietnam War.
This will be my way to learn about the war and to honor all of you.
People repeatedly tell me that the Vietnam War has been called the "forgotten war.
You deserve to be remembered and honored forever.
The response that I've gotten from the Veterans so far is wonderful.
I didn't realize how much my efforts would be appreciated.
I've been bombarded with web sites to go to including this one and I've been given reading assignments!!!
I thought I'd be finished with those by now.
Tomorrow I'm making a special trip to the nearest Barnes N Noble to get a copy of "Stolen Valor.
I'd love to hear your stories and maybe some of them in my screenplay if you'll permit it.
I'd love to hear from all of you but if you choose not to respond, I'll have complete respect for your choice.
I'd just like to end for now by saying thank you to each and every one of you.
Something that I've heard from Veterans, is that it has taken years for someone to thank them for their efforts.
And still some, even thirty years later have never been thanked.
So thank you and God bless all of you for what you did in Vietnam.
Sincerely, Liz Pelland Elizabeth Pelland kpelland valleyint.
I asked him what have you got the Nazi Party over here?
I said hey how was Ito Know?
Some one always had an iron skillet and we had a multitude of C-Rat recipes.
Well I got the idea to write home and have my parents send me a skillet to cook up with.
They sent me one ok, a boy scout mess kit, not unlike the army mess kit.
Its a sight to see what C-4 can do to thin aluminum.
Needless to say I missed that meal.
A good meal consisted of some black meat the cooks had the nerve to call steak, or some slimey chow mein on dry noodles.
Man how I miss those good eats.
I was shipped to Viet Nam aboard the USS Walker troop carrier in 1967 arriving I believe on November 1st.
Yes, I too, got sick as a dog.
I'll never forget the time I stood in the chow line in hopes of "finally" being able to chow down and realizing that I just wasn't going to happen.
Knowing I was again about to "spend" some more "bile" somewhere I found a porthole.
Only then did I realize that someone else was doing the same one deck up and forward on the ship.
Knowing my circumstance I had no choice but finish what I had started.
Quite the experience if I do say so myself.
My MOS was 11D40.
I was part of a scout platoon.
I spent seven months with this group of guys until I, as were most of us, was infused into other units.
As a group I believe we lost two men, they being 1 Willie C.
McNair my squad leaderand Richard Mehl.
We lost ten comrades in a training exercise at Ft.
Knox in 1967 when two of our choppers collided.
Nine in one ship and one in the other.
If any of you guys are out there let me know and if possible post who you are on this site.
Here is a story about restroom walls I served on a platoon size hill.
So when you went to the restroom you showed your butt to the whole hill, plus you were very exposed http://casinosslotstopfree.life/reno/total-rewards-casinos-reno.html Charlie sitting there with your pants down.
It even gets better.
Right in front of the shitters is our horseshoe pit.
You're setting there trying to do your thing and every time someone hollers ringer you quench a little.
To the right is the LZ.
Have you ever had a sandblasted ass?
It even gets better at night.
While 10 mosquitoes circle your head and you swatting them away 20 will bite you on the ass.
They brought us a new 4-setter one day.
You talk about uptown, 5th Avenue and Beverly Hills.
This was the MAX of all latrines.
We had a roof over our head.
Screen wire half way down on three sides.
The back and bottom half were covered with plywood.
Now we can set their not showing our butt to Charlie.
We can set on the side line and cheer on the horse shoe game.
Let it rain, we can set there and listen to the rain drops falling on the roof.
Damn mosquito got me on the butt again.
Just as soon as they unloaded this new latrine are Sargent posted a poem inside it.
Sgt Bolton This is the only latrine that I ever saw in Vietnam with out any grafiti upon the walls.
Not even a sweetheart name.
Thanks Marine Gunner Bolton I'll never forget that poem are you.
I remember one afternoon setting in the shitter and Charlie takeing a shot at me I pinched that off real quick, couldn't even take a shit in peace.
Was in the 5th Div.
So i ask some MPs what the HELL?
They said yea -they!!!
The MPs told us, they were pilots wives-girlfriends,who were in combat in NAM.
NEXT DAY we left for Nam aboard the USS Gieger Retired Now Landed nearQui Nhon near noon full gear rifles yes rifles not guns RIFLES or Weapons.
Scared Hungry no chow yet All 1800 troops in LCs heading for the beach.
Maybe smelled a little Crap in the pants were mammas little babies you no.
Fully geared were ready.
SCARED-FRIEGHT-CRAP--thats something ill never forget-I survived it after all WERE AMERICAN GIs--God Bless YOU ALL One of the strangest experiences I had in Vietnam was while stationed at Long Thanh AAF with the 210th CAB.
Our Company Commander wanted a very large tree trunk removed from the area behind the OR and instructed the unit Armorer to see to the task.
The Armorer was to use plastic C4 to accomplish the task.
The Armorer spent most of the day digging out the sandy soil from around the trunk but would not admit to anyone that he did not know much about C4.
So to hide his lack of knowledge he asked an old Vietnamese guy we had around to burn our crap how much to use.
This old Vietnamese guy always boasted that he fought with the French back in the 50s and knew all about C4.
He told the armorer to use one kilo.
That's right, one kilo.
Well the armorer carefully placed the one kilo of C4 under the stump and after making sure no one was close by, set off the charge.
The ensuing explosion set off all kinds of alarms because our first thoughts were that it was a 122 rocket impacting.
No one had bothered to alert anyone that this trunk was to be blown.
I was outside approximately 200 meters from the explosion and was looking right at it.
From my angle of view it looked like a direct hit on a hooch that billeted my platoon.
I ran through the shower of splinters toward the hooch then noticed it was not the hooch once the smoke cleared.
Believe you me my pucker factor was pretty tight at this point.
Instead I found one very scared and embarassed armorer behind a bunker.
He told me what he had done.
I looked around and there was a jagged hunk of our battalion headquarters missing.
When it was all over we were all releived that the only casualties were stained OD drawers.
It was one of the healthiest explosions I had heard in my three tours of Vietnam.
The stump was now toothpicks.
A gaping hole was all that remained.
We all got a good laugh from that one.
The old Vietnamese guy never returned to burn our crap.
We figured that he was probably telling the truth when he said he fought with the French.
I believe they were called Viet Minh then, weren't they?
He probably got a medal from his VC leader because if their news sources were anything like ours, they probably reported that there were 50 killed and 7 buildings destroyed.
Does anyone from the 210 Avn Bn remember this which happened sometime in early 70?
Reading these stories bring back a few laughs.
We were in a firebase 5 miles off the beach but still in the sand.
The story about the rats brings back another memory.
There were about 6 of us in a bunker, smokin' a little, we had had problems with the rats so they set out some traps.
We were all talking and laughing when all of a sudden we heard the trap snap and the rat screamed.
We all came about 3 feet off the ground at the same time, headed for the exit,and 3 of us were jambed in the doorway.
One of the guys Robinson weighed about 250 and was about 6'5".
He made his way out the door taking the other 3 of us with him.
His response after we were outside was "what was that?
And that's no lie, but it was a good laugh!
WAS WITH THE 93RD ENGR BN AT DONG TAM 3-30-68TO3-30-69 Odd things happen.
A trooper Commanding an APC on patrol took two hits, one in the heal of his boot and one ripped through the back of his flak-jacket.
Thinking to be busted the three GIs where shocked when the SGT.
The Medic who often walked point for his Infantry Platoon was shocked when his new unit kept walking past Enemy placements without notice The scratching noise under his flat air mattress woke the GI up and after getting a flashlight he found the large scorpion under it and sent him to scorpion heaven.
Then there was the frag that came down the stairs into the center of the TOC Bunker, it had been defused, a warning?
Waking up one night with a herd of pigs getting ready to munch on you.
A definate breach of noise disipline.
The kid who toughed out the pain and sucked it up while on night ambush after Being stung by something that raised a huge red knot on his leg.
Then there was the Cowboy, had a bum knee that got him sent to the rear every mission, got a medical discharge one day after his units biggest fire fight in over a year.
Stanger things have happened, two troopers in the back of an APC accidentally fired an M-79, the big shell hitting one in the armpit only to bounce off, who threw the shell in the river?
Hey can anyone explain why Engineers are the only unit to always put Combat somewehr in their unit name.
Never say Artillery Combat Armor Combat or Infantry combat why does the engineers.
TO KEEP STORIES FROM RUNNIN TOGETHER WITH ANOTHER STORY, CLICK ENTER TWICE BEFORE YOU START YOUR STORY One day riding machine gunner on the back of a jeep leading a convoy out of Plei Dejereng I mistakenly started a fire fight with a unit from the 4th division.
Units were here and there, sometimes a unit was actually there when they thought they were here.
Everyone had a job to do, some jobs were to keep track of were a unit was, some jobs were to keep track of every unit, some jobs were to keep EVERYONE informed of who was here and there.
Some jobs were to lead convoys and some jobs were to drive jeeps.
Some jobs were to man machine guns that were mounted on the back of jeeps and not hesitate to PROTECT convoys.
Now who is at fault if a platoon leader makes a mistake of where his location actually was.
Or if a guy just forgot to pass along a location of a friendly unit.
Maybe an RTO got a location mixed up with a previous location.
Is a convoy leader REALLY at fault for going too fast or too slow.
What if a jeep driver takes his eyes off the road, jerks the wheel to get back on the road and DISTRACTS a machine gunner for just a split second.
I remember firefights as noisey, confusing and quick starting.
There wasn't any allowable delay in reaction time.
Speaking of snafu's, I went down a trail to sit on LP for the chance to do long overdue letter writing while the Platoon set up for the night.
I heard a noise and was just getting a rush of pucker factor ready to rock and roll when I saw a GI down the trail still unaware of me.
I ask who are you and he answered but I dont recall the unit, anyway they where nearly a click of http://casinosslotstopfree.life/reno/small-casinos-in-reno-nv.html />The Department of Veterans Affairs states that the receiving of such awards as the Purple Heart PHthe Bronze Star with "V" Device, Combat Infantryman Badge CIBor other similar citations satisfies the VA requirement that the veteran was involved in a combat stressor.
I remember the few times I was in them in Vietnam I'd read the toughts of those placed there.
I even put my thoughts on one.
As I sat and read, it occured to me that i had never choosen my own spot on the wall to express my attitude.
So, with pencil in hand I wrote these word.
I would have been born with green baggy skin.
Well, I didn't get caught and I hope somebody understood.
Seems like I always got stuck on that detail.
Man what a mess, and it always spilled out when removing from the crapper.
Then gently pour in the diesel fuel and fire away.
The Marines got the stuff from WWII that was leftover.
LRP rations, never got them.
Some of the peanutbutter was just so old it broke into and crumbled in your hand.
Glad I did'nt smoke.
I felt sorry for the guys that smoked those old Camels.
It really smelled like Camel shit or what I thought it should smell like, Ha!
What crap to remember.
God love all you other vets cause there ain't no way we're goin' to hell, we've already been there while all of the flower children were stuffin Nat'l Guardsmen rifles with flowers then burnin' their draft cards.
Well I wasn't drafted.
Went into Uncle Sam's Misguided Childrens organization on my own.
Wow, my first adult decision, but I wouldn't trade one second of any of it, including Viet Nam.
TO KEEP STORIES FROM RUNNING TOGETHER WITH ANOTHER STORY, CLICK ENTER TWICE BEFORE YOU START TYPING The first time I heard of the jungles of vietnam was in a story from a short timer about the Orangutan apes that lived in the highlands.
It seems two men on guard in a tower fired on a band of the apes and drove them from the wire.
Later that night the tower was assaulted by the band and the men were beaten bitten and thrown from the tower.
Whether or not this is true I never knew.
The story here is true however.
After a long day humping the highland boonies finally time to set up for the night.
After secureing the AO we set about our usuall task of setting out what we called Vampires, booby-trapped claymore mines around our position.
We were side tracked on a trail by a Mango Grove of small ripe trees and picked all the fruit we could carry.
Afterwards we went a little farther and encountered the perfect spot to stop.
We were advised to stop by a rather huge Orangutan shaking and breaking large tree limbs and barking and grunting like a big Dog.
He was throwing limbs at us but could not reach us so we set the Claymores in daisy chain and hauled out of his AO.
The Mangos were great.
If you received gamma globulin, vaccines with the jet injector, tattoos, blood transfusions, IV drug use, or came into any contact with someone else's blood while in the military you need to be tested for Hepatitis C.
HepC attacks the liver and leads to cirrhosis, and complete liver damage.
Most people do not know they have it as the test is not done routinely.
You must ask your doctor for it specifically.
We are trying to get a law enacted through congress to make HCV a presumtion of infection so we can get disability for this from the VA.
Please write your representatives in Congress and ask them to approve HR 1020 and your Senators to approve S71.
I remember coming back into Camp J.
Carroll very late one night after being out on a two-week long "snoop and destroy" mission up in the Quang Tri Province DMZ area near Khe Sahn and the Rockpile areas.
We had made radio contact with the rear and told them we were coming in and then we worked out way up the mountain and through the wire.
We were 'dog tired' after being on foot all day and all night to get back and when we got inside the wire we just found us a place to pitch our "hootches" up and laid down and went to sleep.
After about an hour or so of very sound sleep, we were awakened by the most god awful series of explosions you ever heard.
They were so powerful it knocked our poncho hootches right down on top of us.
Everybody was hollering and screaming "INCOMING" and we were trying to get untangled fromt he hootches and find our weapons to get into a foxhole.
Then this really weird sound followed the explosions, and we realized it was outgoing shells!!
We stood there for about 30 seconds and then it happened again.
Nearly busted our ear drums and it also knocked us down on the ground.
We finally came to realize that when we came back into the camp that the Army had moved in some 175MM "Long Tom's" in and we had pitched our hootches up right under the end of the muzzles!!!
When those damn guns went off it was like the end of the world!!!
Scared the crap out of us.
It didn't take us long to pick up our gear and move to another location away from those big boys.
Aint' nobody can get a decent nights sleep under the end of one of those muzzles, believe me.
The next day my muscles hurt me like I had been punched, and beat on, all night long.
I know it was from the concussion off of those 175's.
From then on, when we came back to a camp after dark we made damns sure there had not been any changes in the positions of artillery while we were gone.
Those Army boys sure had a good laugh on us the next day though.
But, we were sure glad to see those big guns go to work.
Nobody ever seemed to like those green ham and eggs out of the can, let me tell you that was the best of the day, all day longbetter than any NAVY COOKING.
I've read your stories, and feel very touched by them.
Like many of you, I too have been touched by the Vietnam War.
My experience is from a somewhat different perspective though.
Like the young lady who wrote in earlier.
I don't really remember learning much about Vietnam in school.
My interest has been longstanding, but not untill recently did I realize what a huge part it played in how my life was to be mapped out.
At a young age I found out that I was adopted.
My mom told me that my dad was abusive and my biological mother put me up for adoption because she thought it was the best thing for me.
Not untill last year did I find out more.
I knew that my biological dad was in Vietnam but that was all I knew.
He told me that our father was in the army for 12 years.
I believe that he got out after his experience in Nam, but I don't know what year.
He told me how he was so troubled with flashbacks and just wasn't right after the war.
He got out of Nam only to be trapped inside his own mental war.
One day, he was pulled over by the poliece for a broken taillight.
Before the cop could even get to the window, he pulled out a gun and shot hisself in the head.
No more suffering for him.
I won't ever get to meet him.
Never get a chance to see the good in him.
I'm so sorry for all of you who had to endure such horrible things over there.
I know that most of you didn't want tobe there anyway.
I don't blame you.
Nor am I angry with any of you.
I thank you for giving so much of yourself for our country.
You deserve so much more than words can begin to experss.
God Bless You All.
If any of you have any information about a man named William R.
Wells in reno tahoe best bets magazine army, please email me.
I'd be glad to know anything that you may bewilling to share.
If you just have any messages or thoughts you would like to share with me, I'd be honored to hear from you.
I was sick and had a bad earache and to top it off it was right in the middle of the monsoon season.
Nobody ever went inside those bunkers especially at night so we sat on top, covered ourselves with our ponchos as best we could and got soaked.
Sometime in the middle of the night I remember becoming so frustrated, cold wet sick and getting читать полностью asses eaten by mosquitos I took the M79 grenade launcher and fbutired a round way out in front of the next bunker down from us.
Next thing you know we hear the sound of a 79 being fired from that bunker and it explodes way out in front of us.
Now we send another one at them only walking it in a little closer and they did the same.
We go back and forthcloser and closer untill we hear the sound of a jeep screaming up to our bunker with the headlights out of course.
Its the baes defense officer and he runs up to our bunker all pissed off wanting to know who the hell is doing all the firing out here.
Remember, its just pouring out and he's not happy about having to leave his cozy TOC bunker to come out and see whats going on.
The BDO screamed at those guys "you stupid SOB's, watch your line of fire!
Being this happened in the middle of the night we could'nt actually watch him walking through the mud to get to their bunker but we sure could hear him tearing them a new you know what.
To their credit they never turned us in and we never heard anymore about it.
I forgot all about being sick and life went on.
Not too long after that,each bunker had a bunker commander who had to inventory every round of ammo, every change of guard.
Peace to all who served!
Tiny T Sorry about some of the spelling up there guys, I'm not a typer.
This is just a followup on my friend Chris Cade.
He was killed in a car accident in Alliance, OH leaving a beautiful wife and a 6 month old son.
He also was driving drunk and if he had survived I would have gone out there and kicked his ass for being so iresponsible.
I miss him a lot.
Being an engineer we would take old claymores apart to use the C-4 to heat our C-Rations, on a convoy guntruck we was all heating our rations when a new kid got done he stood up and tried to stomp it out, lucky we hit a bump and he missed, but he got tackled and told that if he would have connected the compression from it would have blown his leg off.
Besides we didn't have to pay for it let it burn.
Well named for all the thoughts I have but not the time to spendhere today bitching about.
I'll return as an old soldier once said.
Long ago and far away, I was a 19 Year old aircraft commander in the BIG RED ONE No Mission To Difficult No Sacrifice To Great Duty First,Yea Yea .
Any How i was flying Ash and Trash out of Phuloi and one of the trips was to resupply a Ground Unit with the iron brigade You guys know the drill SP packs C rats water ammo etc This Unit had seen some shit and were hurting for certain,The Young DAC Thats Dumb Ass Captain Was a good Guy and I and My crew liked His style and that of His Men, He hopped up on My skid and asked if I could try to get some beer for His kids and handed Me a fistfull of mpc I pulled pitch went back to PhuLoi to refuel and My Crew Chief Steve Dobry KIA hit the hooches and came back with 4 cases of san Miguel, We went on to other Missions and just as We were done for the day We were sent to the Red Carpet Pad to pick up a prioroty package for delivery to Xeon, well the package Was 6 Boxes of Steak in Dry Ice,for the Officers Mess at Xeon.
As I pulled pitch I went up on the intercom and My crew and I decided that Ouy Young Dac and His troops deserved something more that the beer,We flew up to Thunder Two were You could get bags of charcoal and bought some then went to Lie Khe to pick up the mermite cans of chow for Our Boys from the Iron Brigade after I took off I hit the deck low leval and called reciving fire.
I did some Hairy turns in case some was watching and then went on to deliver the chow to the troops also they got beer, Steaks and charcoal.
Our story was that the Steaks had fallen overboard when I took evasive manuvers after reciving fire and to make the story plausable Источник статьи aske for the exec to meet Me when We landed.
He was suitably impressed with Our tale of a harrowing experience.
The Young Dac later was KIA Later,He was Hit in the chest and I evaced Him but He was dead by the time I landed in DauTieng.
God Bless Him and all You.
Bulldog18 We laughed, we cried, we did our job, and some of us were lucky enough to go home.
We had no clue as to why we were there, we just did our job and hoped we wouldn't end up with the thousand yard stare.
We had no reason to hang our head in shame, but back in the world folks would forget your name.
Instead of 'Hey Vet, let me buy you a beer,' it was, 'We got no use for you guys around her!!
So my fellow in-country brothers from New York to Nome, all I can say is, 'BROTHER, WELCOME HOME!!
On our first day in Cambodia while riding on our APCs we would hit these red ant nests in the trees that were full of ant eggs.
They had somehow made nests out of the green leaves.
They would grab you with their pincers and sting you with their tail.
The best way to kill these nests was with a can of OD olive drab.
It made a flame about 6 feet long.
That same day as I set behind the.
He didn't bother me and I didn't find him until we stopped.
Believe it or not, we ate so many c-rats that I craved some of them when I got back.
I didn't get so desperate that I went to an army surplus store and bought some though.
We had a hodge- podge of ethnic types and would mix all kinds of stuff up out of boredom to eat.
My friend John Nowak from near Detroit would get a Polish care package and was kind enough to share it.
The GI peanut was good for one thing, it would sure stop the runs!!
Larry Nuckolls B CO.
Once upon a time in a land far far away, there arrived a box with some lumber and tin.
When your're not on duty or out and away, the 1st sgt usually finds something to keep you from getting bored.
I'd never seen or heard of such a thing.
I'd get popular mechanics or such magazines with prefab houses or garages, but a prefab four seater, just what is this war coming to.
I don't know if I want to put this on my resume for the building trade.
Well the sgt's need their own private place away from us privates to do their.
And well, the Col shouldn't have to walk in the mud, and we have all this concrete just laying around, so we might as well pave him a side walk.
The most fun I had was the pallet and plank bridge from our bunker to the road.
For some reason I kept my 5 buckle boots since I kept them, the Army made me pay for emwhich worked fine till I got to the ditch.
I don't know why that chanook had to over fly me when the water was a foot deep all the way to the road and I could'nt see the ditch and I had my M16 in one hand and the M60 in the other.
So when the rickety bridge was done, things were a little easier.
I saw it coming, but I didn't think the down draft would be that strong to blow me to my knees.
Yes it took a wee bit longer to get to my bunk after guard duty, to clean up said weapons.
I don't have any war stories.
Things seemed to happen around me, in my general area, but not near enough to be dangerous.
We were out in the field surveying along a road, when rockets were flying over our heads toward Tay Ninh, where we would spend that night.
I slamed the door ran down the steps jumped in my bunk and out jumps an E6 with a revolver in his hand and a wild look in his eyes.
An air strip on the way to Cambodia took 4 rounds while I was drunk in a trailer and watching my sgt dive uner a pile of garbage.
It seemed that most of the unpleasant stuff happenedd to the folks who were there before me.
I did'nt jump under my bunk evertime they set off a disposal charge at Cu Chi, but about 70% of the guys did.
It was a long drive.
We were all covered in dust.
No we could not carry water for showers.
Yep that kid is herding his water buffaloe out of that there pond.
No we did not think about bugs and parasites and such.
Yes we poluted that pond with our stinky bodies and a lot of soap.
I spent a night somewhere, no bunks, so I used and overturned wall locker.
Just something to keep me off the ground.
Next morning I noticed a dead spider nearby.
I don't know if it bit me and died or maybe someone threw it in to get a rise out of me.
Big furry legs, about 7" across.
On sweep afterr bunker guard there was this three foot brown snake coming my way.
I've always heard everything snakely was poisoness, I couldn't identify this one.
It went its way and I went mine, just minding our own business.
A feller in the motor pool came into the EM club, granted he was tipsy when he went back to his hooch prior to returninwith a story about killing a cobra next to reno blackjack tournament bunk.
Of course no one would believe him.
He came back with the snake in a box.
I don't recall what was previously in the amo boxes, but we usedd them in our hooch to build cabinets for our radios, tape players and such.
We had one hammer and saw and we used the nails that came with the crates and mostly O.
Home away from home.
Either at the PX or during my travels, I picked up this 105 shell case that someone turned into a flower vase.
It was widened in the middle and the top was flared out and a design was dimpled in the side.
Since a wrotten nasty Missouri person got me started on chewing tobacco, I was using it as a spitoon.
One of the fellers on the other end of the hootch who didn't know me to well was coming down the hall heading toward the shower when he noticed my vase.
Before anyone could stop him, he reached his hand into the vase to lift it up to view the ID on the bottom of the vase to see the 105 marked on it.
The spitoon was more than half full.
When I came upon the scene, the spitoon was on the floor along with the juice and the fellow from Missouri was laughing his derierre off.
Except for haveing to clean up the mess, it was quite funny.
We had civilian KPs from about 0800 to 1700.
We were on from 0600 to about 2100.
Naturally the showers would be cold when we got off, if there was any water at all.
The chopper dudes had their seperate shower- them being mechanics- had a hot water heater.
Our water was heated by the sun.
One nite after KP, the shower was dry, so I took a chance and visiated the aviation shower.
Yep, they were on guard, yep they tossedd a smoke grenade in with me.
Well, I was just happy it wasn't a CS grenade.
Speaking of CS, the MP's were up wind of us.
Yep not a lot of people were fond of the MPs.
A person had to sleep with their gas masks under their pillows, or they spent one uncomfortable night.
Top of the only sizeable hill in our AO was a good place for a primary survey marker.
So thats where we went now and again.
So if we wanted to sleep in a bunk at night, we had to share bunker guard with the inhabitants.
Nobody told me full auto was the signal for full alert.
Naturally I had it try it out, surveyors don't have much opportunity to shoot.
They the guys in the bunker said I could shoot all I wanted to.
So I shot at everything in and out of range and all the time I was there.
I shot the cockroach walking across the sandbag in front of me.
It took out half the bag, well you never know till you try.
It was getting on to dusk and the truck headlight we were using to sight on wasn't visible at the range we were surveying.
So we put a trip flare on a sandbag on our tripod, it worked quite well.
I'm just glad I wasn't in the new camp in the boonies, at twilight, with the trees way to close, no wire, with atrip flare lighting up the place like downtown.
Needless to say the grunts were a bit tiffed at our guys.
We would drive through these small hamlets where those dam GI's drove too fast.
Kind a like the pizza kids drive down our street now.
So the locals devised these speed traps, one stick raise on a rock or two to the left, one to the right and one to the left.
So you had to slow down and do an S through it.
So I take the trap a little to fast.
No problem, the ditch is shallow.
The problem is that they just upgraded me from riding machine gun in the back which is fine too, if a little dirty-it's not like they let me fire it- ever, I did get a pair of goggles, also had to clean the gun, it was on a fan stand weighted down with a few sand bags and there's a curve up ahead and the lead jeep is in view and SFC Rimmer is giving me one of those looks that melt steel.
I was trained at Ft.
Belvoir as Topographic Survey instrument operator T-2 theodolite and Microwave Distance Measure 82D20.
I was sent to Ft.
Bragg, TDY to Yuma Proving Grounds- a really nice placee where I actually worked my MOS for 3 weeks and no KP.
Bragg as a duty station was boring in the extreme, so naturally I got in some trouble and my name appeared on a volunteer levey.
There were 14 names on it and they said we didn't have to go because none of us really volunteered, but only two declined.
I ended up in the 25th Divarty, HHB, Survey Plt.
My base camp home was Cu Chi.
My unit surveyed all the new artillery sites, put them on the map.
Visited Tay Ninh a few times, Nui Dat, Nui Ba Dinh and a lot of towers.
I don't know how acurate survey off of 100' towers swaying in the breeze was, but thats what we had to do.
Working my MOS in Vietnam was a lot of fun 90% of the time.
Didn"t get to work my MOS but 20% of my time in country.
Most of the time was spent in Cu Chi doing make work.
Went to Cambodia for the big turkey shoot of 1970, where I got to take a bath in a water buffaloe pond.
VC firelfly--Our first patrol at night in Vietnam.
We don't know what to expect.
Our grenader sees lights across the paddy.
He launches a grenade and hits his target.
There was nothing left of that VC firefly.
The grenader was informed that the VC don't use flashlights.
VC firelfly--Our first patrol at night in Vietnam.
We don't know what to expect.
Our grenader sees lights across the paddy.
He launches a grenade and hits his target.
There was nothing left of that VC firefly.
The grenader was informed that the VC don't use flashlights.
I think that is the hardest to deal with, why them and not us?
God bless you all and may god truely have our buddies with him in heaven!
Then he fell down and died The End i remember one of my tours my wife sent me a care package with all kinds of goodies you guys know the oneswell after we all stuffed ourselfs in the botton of the box was this bag of popcorn unpoped without any oil.
I think we re-fueled in Okinawa or Guam.
I wanted to call my fiance in Texas.
I couldn't use a phone to call home.
Arrive in Nam; hot, muddy, sweaty, dazed.
Bathe in cold water from drum on top of pull chain.
I just am freaked out.
I am no tough guy from NYC.
I am a scared shit.
I still remember it like it was happening today.
I always remember how things get worse.
As soon as I get home.
I have 4 children.
I am a good father because I learned respect from the Army.
I learned from each conversation.
I don't know about heroes.
I was a scared punk in Nam.
I am a man today from that scared.
Yet, few returned home whole, if they returned at all.
I would say that period of my life was the most learning experience that I have ever had.
To think about dying everyday for over a year, and sometimes welcoming it.
That kind of thing will have to have some kind of affect on a person, even after the war was over.
I don't think anyone that was over there came back as they were before they left.
I thank God that I made it back, and with a sound mind.
I could go on and onbut pressed for time now.
I will write more as time allows.
Oliver ps I think this is a nice channel to ventor express with someone who can relate.
I would say that period of my life was the most learning experience that I have ever had.
To think about dying everyday for over a year, and sometimes welcoming it.
That kind of thing will have to have some kind of affect on a person, even after the war was over.
I don't think anyone that was over there came back as they were before they left.
I thank God that I made it back, and with a sound mind.
I could go on and onbut pressed for time now.
I will write more as time allows.
Oliver ps I think this is a nice channel to ventor express with someone who can relate.
I got one while in nambutthe war must go on.
It gave me great pleasure to see and hear HONOI JANE appolgize after all these years.
Iwas scared for my children.
I almost never left base camp at an khe.
We were mortared the night of September 3, 1966.
The shells were walked right through our tent area.
We lost 3 men, 2 of whom i knew well.
A round hit the peak of the tent next to me, killing Danny Ferry who was in his bunk.
That round also slightly injured me.
I began looking for his family several years later and located them after a 4 year search.
On September 3, 1996, exactly 30 years after his death, i met his family and visited his grave with them.
I was with the First Brigade, 101 from June 1966 to July 1967.
I participated in operations Hawthorn Dak ToJohn Paul Jones Tuy HoaPicket Kontumand Hastings.
I probably did not see as much actual combat as others, however I was continually in the field, and not at base camp Phan Rang.
I was at base camp only for about 5 days in December 1966.
I did see some things that I did not understand.
Much of what was asked seemed to be very strange, and fortunately I used my better judgement, and did not literarily obey every command.
We were overran by the NVA at Dak To in June of 66.
We used fleshette rounds from our 105mm howitzers to repel the battalion.
Aside from that, and shooting at the unknown in the jungle seemed to be common.
Most of the time it was moving from one position to another.
I'll never forget Kontum.
It took us six days to dig in with a trench running from the ammo dump to the base piece.
We did this after one of the guns blew up from a muzzle burst, and set the ammo dump that was located near the base piece on fire.
We had overhead cover with logs and sand bags.
The digging took a long time due to the rocks.
On the seventh day we were told to move out.
One of the guys in my section was so pissed, he stabbed himself in the foot with his bayonet.
I don't know if it was an accident cutting open sand bags, or deliberate.
Anyway, most of the times kids would help us fill our sand bags.
At night the kids would come close to the parameter, and throw rocks and laugh.
We were told to lob grenades back.
When we had the muzzle burst on smoke bomb hill, many thought it was sabotage.
A new guy named Sergeant Sergeant strange last namewent back up on the hill.
We found him later after all the rounds went off, lying dead with a land line phone in his hand.
The funny thing was, there was no land line set up yet??
I was given emergency leave in July of 77 because of my father being near death.
When I arrived at the hospital in Tampa, Florida, he told me he had saved my life.
I asked him how, and he said he saw my name in the "book," and knew that if I stayed any longer in Vietnam, I would be dead.
Anyway, while I was home, I came down with malaria, and was given convalescent leave.
While in Tampa, I decided to visit the family of one of the guys in my section.
His las name was Gray, and that's what we always called him.
When I visited his family they asked me if I had heard the news?
I said what news, they said that the outpost that they were on got overran in Kontum in the early morning about 2AM.
It was foggy, and the PAVN's got so close, that they dropped a pack of cigarettes on the sandbags.
Anyway, they used a satchell charge to try to blow up the outpost.
Donald Fox was shot in the back of the leg, and Gray was ok.
I guess if I had not been called off that Huey that day to go home, I would have been there.
I guess my dad did know something.
Anyway, I was not there for Tet.
I did protest the war later due to the fact that it was being fought based on attrition, and not on gaining and holding territory by invading North Vietnam.
How would MaCarthur had done if he was not allowed to go into North Korea?
In any case, we were constantly fighting for the same ground over and over again.
Avation,I worked in supply,then I went to the fire dept.
I was in Vietnam from Dec.
Avation,I worked in supply,then I went to the fire dept.
We've got good, and we've got bad memories.
The most important thing is WE DO HAVE MEORIES.
I met some great guys 30 some odd years ago.
I also met a few "A" holes that only thought of themselves.
But in my eyes the good ones were heros.
We may not all have been grunts.
Yes we were heros.
Transportaion people keeping the vehicals going, the suppy types taking care,getting, and giving everything we needed to get the job done the doctors and nurses who took care of us when we got sick,hurt or wounded.
It took every one to do it not just the unsung hero's shown in the movies charging the hills.
There wasn,t a night or day that went by.
What did get us was the politcians and money hungry bussineses that somehow kept the war going for the busk.
Some of us WILL NEVER come home mentally.
Every one who honorably went to that small Southeast Asia country and returned.
The old men and woman who went as children have not yet realy returned.
Their youth was left in Vietnam and their memories are still there.
Some have disguised themselves as someone else, and may never return.
What I remember most about Viet Nam are the dogs guys had to leave behind at wars reno tahoe best bets magazine and the razed villages we flew over or drove or walked through.
Subconciously and now consciously that;s why I have so many stray dogs now 6 and why I am so obsessed with building the Arts District in downtown Los Angeles.
We've also lured an architectural college to the community.
Also, I've opened a store to serve the community, which I've had to work 7 days a week for the last 5 and a half years.
We'll carry Viet Nam with us always, but can use the experience to make this a better place.
On 7 Feb 67, two days before I turned 19, I began basic training.
I got on the bus in Long Beach CA in the late afternoon which took us to Fort Ord CA.
After Basic Training I went to Fort Gordon GA for AIT Advanced Infantry Trainingthen on to Fort Benning GA for Airborne Training.
Then it was on to Fort Campbell KY for Jungle Training.
In Mid Dec 67 we flew on Lockheed C-141 starlifters to the Bien Hoa Airport.
Convoy 10 wheelers took us to Cu Chi, northwest of Saigon III Corp.
We were introduced to the ways of the vietnamese and participated in training drills, to acclimate us to the hot weather.
downtown casinos nv in the jungle we spent the evening laying around in the bushes.
We did not rest easy as it was STRANGE being in a real war zone.
Any noise made us jump.
We could not talk or smoke.
No shooting may have taken place that night but you got scared over and over again.
We were all in this together and it was our first taste of the terror which was to come.
We got on 4 propeller C-130's and flew up to Hue I Corp where I remained till I was wounded.
On 13 Mar 68 I was hit in the head by schrapnel metal fragments.
I lost my left eye.
I was flown by huey helicopter with the other KIA's and wounded to a tent hospital in Da Nang, 60 miles away.
After being assessed, I was flown to the Naval Hospital Ship, USS Sanctuary.
There I was operated on and remained for 15 days.
On 1 Apr 68 I was flown with hundreds of other wounded servicemen to an Air Force Base in San Francisco.
From there, I was flown by helicopter to Letterman General Hospital to a waiting ambulance.
From there I was carried inside by stretcher.
After recuperating I was sent home in July to await retirement which became effective on 7 Aug 68.
Some may think me bitter for what happened to me as it profoundly changed the course of my life.
I am not bitter in the least, though.
I went to Vietnam to serve my country and thought I was going to be fighting for a noble cause to free the Vietnamese people from Communist oppression.
I am forever thankful to God for sparing my life and giving me a second chance.
The only thing that really saddens me is all those who DIDN'T get that second chance.
I guess that is why I spend so much of my time trying to help my fellow veterans.
Being the leader of a Point Man group gives me the opportunity to help those who are hurting and I can surely understand where they're coming from.
I am still 100% disabled due to my injury in Vietnam and am unable to work because of a severe memory impairment but I don't have to sit back and play the part of a victim.
I will do what I can to assist those who need and want help and I will do it till the day I die!
Hello, my name is Onrie Diddy Brown.
I was a member of the 102 Engr.
I was stationed at a small compound called Wooly Bully near Kontum V.
What we couldn't carry or was worn out, we buried and drew new equipment at Cam Rahn Bay.
This was considered to be the longest move of any Engr.
My job was heavy equipment operator until after the move.
I crossed trained for mortars.
I spent the last 6 months of my tour on our mortar team.
We had 2 - 81mm mortar pits.
My brother came to V.
He was assigned to my unit, maint.
I was the youngest person in my company when I got there.
The other youngest was KIA in an ambush.
I saw him in 1996 when I hosted my V.
Company reunion here in Mobile, Al.
I have attended 3 so far.
It has been 30 years since I came home and I have mixed emotions about my experience.
I don't regret serving my tour.
I do regret the number of persons killed for no reason.
I sometimes wonder if we should have stayed out.
What did we accomplish?
We won a lot of battles but I believe we lost the war.
I'm not sure who got hit first A or B company, information was vague at best, and I was only a new PFC member of Jim Pierce's squad.
Jim made a big impression on me, a great leader, and one to lead by example, I am very thankful to have had him for a squad leader, he made it home too.
We all learned very quickly from the 'Old Timers' and survival was usually the quick or the dead.
We got hit late on May 18 or 19th, formed a perimeter and dug in for the fight.
B company had apparently been ambushed on their way to help us at about the same time.
On the 20th and were told to get was left of A company, and move out, this was about dusk.
We moved out with what was left of our company, only a good size platoon, abour 40-50 men.
We did not know that all contact with B company had been lost, and we were sent to find you.
We moved until darkness, and something very strange happened.
Our CC, it was either Williamson or Buck, can't remember, had us literally join hands in an attempt to form a human sweep of the area into the dark of night.
And this is what we we did, calling out B COMPANY where are you-- over and over, in a desperate attempt to find you.
Holding hands at arm length and not able to see, for whatever reasons the NVA did not set another ambush for us, apparently they took a good ass kicking too, and were moving back across the border as they usually did.
Early the next morning, we found what was left of B company and it was not good.
It appeared B had formed into two platoons and got hit about the same time, a well planned ambush by the NVA.
siena casino reno closing remember most of the KIA's we found were by a small stream, I'm not sure if they were filling their canteens, as I don't remember any laying around, it was probably one of the ambush sites, a good place for one.
I don't recall any survivors were we were, just many, many, dead.
I did recognize some of the guys, most of the 'Old Timers' knew them well, having come over as an unit from Ft.
It was a very sad, horrifying sight, one that would have to be seen to believe, and my first real experience with reality of war and death.
At that time, it touched me with a harsh verse from an Edgar Allen Poe, "Some may die a great dealth, some may die a humble dealth, but when you die, no matter how it may be, you are Dead".
There should have been a better way for all o four brothers to die over there.
John, thank you for your hard work and dedication for all of us in that, stinking little war over there.
God Bless All of those who fell that day and all other days.
We should never forget those who gave all of their tomorrows, so we can have our todays.
Welcome Home, Landis Bargatze.
I will try to share some of my Vietnam memories.
Too bad time takes away memories, as there were many memories I am sure have slipped away.
I arrived in Vietnam in June of 1967.
We were flown in to Vietnam by commercial airline the airline that used to advertise, "The big bird with the golden tail.
It was nighttime, and I don't know what altitude we were at, but all the lights went out and we went into Leaf harrahs casino reno Cybertron steep dive.
I thought I was going to get killed then and there - without ever seeing the country.
The pilot turned on a spotlight for about five seconds, then turned it off again and continued in the steep dive.
He finally leveled out and just seconds later we landed.
I have never been any more scared on patrol or in a fire fight as I was arriving on that plane that night.
Third platoon had just been hit hard a couple of days earlier, and out of over 30 men, only about five were left in the platoon.
The rest were either dead or in a hospital.
The first thing they did was size me up and put a radio on my back.
Having a good build can work against you at times.
That was all I needed - a heavy radio, a heavy rifle, and two different types of ammunition to tote.
It didn't take me long to figure out how to remove the grenade launcher from the rifle.
The bad part is, the barrel guard would not fit with out the grenade launcher.
It sure made that rifle light, though.
It worked just fine until my first fire fight.
That barrel got hot as heck, and no way to hold it without burning my hand.
Also new to the platoon was our platoon leader - 2nd Lt.
An intelligent black officer of the highest caliber.
He listened to the five or so experienced non-coms and enlisted men that were still in the platoon.
To this day, I feel that I am alive because Lt.
Bracey knew when to ask questions.
He never acted like he knew it all.
Over all, I think he is one of the best officers I ever served under, and enjoyed being his RTO radio-telephone operator.
His call sign was 3-6 and I was 3-6 Kilo.
A few months went by with several minor fire-fights and some large operations where we surrounded villages at night, and G.
We did manage to kill one hog.
Our machine gunner, Hill, did a magnificent job there - he heard the hog running over some corrugated tin, and was sure a whole regiment of V.
Hill yelled, "Here they come," and opened up with the M-60.
In the morning, when we went out for a body count, all we found was what was left of a 400 LB.
I bet he retired that day.
One sad note about that particular village.
I guess he had been deaf and did not hear the fire fight six hours earlier.
He came trotting out with a lantern.
ссылка, all villages were under a curfew of dusk to dawn.
Absolutely no one was allowed outside during hours of darkness.
One of our short timers, a fellow named Bernie, knew that, and saw this man with a lantern heading in the general direction of the berm we were entrenched behind.
Bernie fired one well placed shot.
Papa-sahn was shaking hands with his maker before the lantern hit the ground.
Berniegot the old man square between the eyes.
When Bernie found out it was just an old man that was heading for the outhouse, Bernie wanted to kill himself.
Bernie went home a few weeks later, just as miserable as a person could be.
If he didn't shoot, and it turned out to be a V.
We all tried to cheer Bernie up, but we all secretly thanked God it wasn't us that did it.
Bernie's actions were justified according to the Army investigator, and it is one of the few times I completely agreed with the Army about anything.
That didn't help Bernie feel any better, and it didn't keep me from being thankful the old man didn't come out in front of me.
As time went on, our great Company Commander, Capt.
John Turner who I heard made Major and went to the Pentagon on leaving Vietnam rotated out.
So did our battalion commander, a griseled old WWII vet that we all respected.
Men of lesser caliber took their places, but we tried to make do.
The new battalion commander liked to fly around in an L.
This commander thought it would look better if we double-timed out to our helicopters after whatever assignment we had been on.
On one operation - a day time sweep of a village looking for weapons and V.
Our platoon was in the lead.
Unfortunately, a general was flying around this day in his own L.
He didn't like the looks of folks double timing to the L.
Now, in the Army more so than anywhere on earth, stuff rolls down hill.
You know, the real stinky stuff.
It really rolls down hill.
The general was fit to be tied.
Did our idiot battalion commander tell the general we were doing it under his orders?
Heck no, the coward blamed it on Lt.
He said that Lt.
Bracey had made us run to the L.
Our new company commander knew better, but he didn't have any backbone either.
All the other officers in the battalion knew better, but they kept their mouths shut.
Bracey was reprimanded, and sent to a non-combat unit somewhere near Saigon.
I had the good fortune to see Lt.
Bracey several months later.
By this time I had made Sgt.
Bracey said he would probably still be a 2nd Lt.
I suspect he was right, except I think he was an intelligent man that did not need to stay in the service.
I hope he did well in civilian life, but very sorry our country was defrauded of his service.
It might have been him instead of Collin Powell who led our forces in Desert Storm.
There are more stories, but I went way over your suggest paragraph, so I will close by saying that Vietnam is the prettiest country you could ever see, when you are looking at it from the altitude the helicopters flew us at.
On the ground, it was a hot, stinky country that did not look as beautiful as it did from the air.
Thanks for allowing me to share some of my memories with you.
John McCoy Former Sgt.
Division, Lai Khe Vietnam.
Copyright © John Fats Spizzirri, 1999, 2000, All Rights Reserved In August 1968, I was a 2Lt.
Our base camp was Con Thein, the northern most base camp in South Vietnam.
We could look into North Vietnam.
We had intelligence that an NVA unit was moving south through the DMZ into our area.
On August 10, I took a squad from my platoon plus my RTO out east from Con Thein to set up an ambush.
The area was old rice patties in disrepair with the jungle starting to take over again.
After dusk, we sat up our ambush on a low bluff above the field below.
We set up our claymores, picked our reference points, were ready to 'rock and roll.
In the light from the fire we saw dozens of black clad figures moving swiftly through the fields all around us.
It was clear if we sprung the ambush we would be over whelmed.
If any of the enemy had come up the small bluff we would have had to fight.
When I looked away from the field toward my men laying on their bellies, they were not looking at the field but looking at me.
We did not spring the ambush.
In the morning every man got quietly to his feet, picked up his equipment and we moved back to base camp without a word.
It was as if we had expected death but somehow won a reprieve.
Bill Crumlett I was a patriot going in, I was a patriot coming out.
I think the country lost something, hurt itself and is hurting itself today by beating on the veterans who fought in VN.
As a country, we need a strong military.
And a strong military begins with, and depends on, the support of the citizens they serve.
Vets need to stand tall, look the world in the eye and demand the respect they deserve for having served.
The other side of that bargain is that vets need to be honest about their service.
Vets need to quit blaming everything that ever happened in their life on a few brief, but intense, months of service.
And we need to point that out to our friends and neighbors when some sociopath, who was a sociopath before he got drafted, blames his life on twelve month's service in VN and all to often he was a cook in a rear area.
The media, members who seem to have a vested interest in portraying vets as losers, play on those читать статью stories.
And America is the loser!
One Day in Nam for Chuck Definitions: C.
It was an unusually unpleasant night on the Third of October, Nineteen Sixty-eight.
I was not used to being in a base and here we were sitting around in Binh Phuoc, our Battalion base camp.
I felt a sense of uneasiness compounded by a feeling of exhaustion.
It was odd, but that night I was sweating, something I rarely did in Nam.
I was actually looking forward to sleeping on a cot surrounded by mosquito netting, which to me was invented to make one sweat.
I felt it restricted my breathing by cutting down any chance of a breeze.
I was just so tired I didn't care.
This wasn't long after dark but I was burnt out from whatever patrols we had done earlier.
My recollection of some of the details of that day are not that clear.
My recollection of the following events of that night and the next morning has haunted me for thirty years.
Just prior to my trying to go lay down and drop off into what to this day I call my "black sleep," a dreamless near comatose statesomeone came around and said they needed guys from our platoon for an Ambush Patrol.
Having not too long before become the 2-3 squad leader I was called upon to choose someone for the ambush patrol from my читать статью or go myself.
Being certain I would fall asleep and put everyone else in jeopardy, I asked for a volunteer from my fellow squad members.
Eddie Bivens offered to go but they still wanted one more guy.
Around this time my feelings of uneasiness were increasing, I asked whomever was in charge that night if perhaps the 2-3 squad could be let off the hook for that night, making the Ambush Patrol up out of the remaining three Second platoon squads.
This was not an uncommon practice to cover for each other, but at that time the company strength was kind of low.
I was told a resounding NO.
I was then derided for my poor skills as a squad leader, I had never asked for the job, no one else would take it, so I did.
I finally spoke with my friend Chuck Schall who agreed to go.
We were speaking for only a short while when an overwhelming sense of doom came over me.
Chuck confessed he had been having the same sense of uneasiness that I had.
The person in charge interrupted our conversation to say that they had to leave A.
Before leaving Chuck and I again spoke, then Chuck did something truly odd, he asked me for my C.
As I handed it him and he handed me his, a chill passed over me.
We both said that if he didn't come back we would never speak to each other again, a little combat humor thing we used to do, showing concern but pretending we would be angry.
Chuck said to keep the C.
Chuck left and I went to lay down.
I slept briefly and woke up with an even stronger sense that something was terribly wrong.
When I got out of the cot I saw that even though it was the middle of the night a lot of the guys in the company were up and walking around.
I asked what was going on?
No one seemed to know, someone said we hadn't heard from the Ambush Patrol in quite a while, someone else went to check.
I couldn't find anyone who knew.
I waited, we all did.
At sunrise we the Company all mounted up on our tracks and headed for the location of the Ambush Patrol.
I remember we were in fairly deep water in one of the paddies when I first spotted Eddie Bivens, who was another member of my squad, and Hodges whose first name I cannot remember hanging onto each other looking injured even from a distance.
When we got up to them someone spoke to them then sent them back to our base camp on another track.
I didn't get to talk to them.
I was getting more and more anxious as we finally approached the area where the Ambush Patrol had set up the night before.
As we got there I saw Sgt.
Peace, another second platoon member, leaning on a tree in broad daylight waving a больше информации light up and down as if to signal in a dustoff during the night.
The rest of that morning is a blur, somehow I had learned that out of ten Second platoon members, seven had been killed, Chuck was amongst the dead.
I remember sending Ernie Strimback to help with the retrieval of bodies.
When he finally did come back he refused to talk about it.
I felt a tremendous sense of guilt, I was sure that had I been there I would have been able to do something that would have prevented the deaths of my friends.
Whoever I was before that day also died out there with that patrol.
I decided, whether consciously or unconsciously I am not sure, that I would never again allow myself to get close to anyone, never again expose myself to that kind of hurt, that kind of pain.
And I decided that I must get even!
Killing no longer became wrong, so long as it was the enemy that was getting killed.
I never let go of my new found philosophy through the remaining eight months of my tour in Nam.
I have paid the price for living that way and still am paying today.
For the rest of the time that I was in the Army I wore Chuck's C.
No one challenged me to replace it, even Stateside, even though the jungles and the boonies had caused the paint to come off just ahead of the barrel of the rifle.
It sits in a frame just above where I am writing this and I see it every day.
Chuck I will never forget you, and I am sorry.
Love, Fats Epilogue: In August of 1998 my wife bought me a computer.
Once I got online I decided to look for anyone who might remember me from Nam.
It was a long shot, 30 years after the fact, but I put a listing on the US Army Lost and Found pages.
To my amazement people who remembered me, and served with me started responding.
One of the first was my good friend Ed Andrews.
Coincidentally, Harold "Doc" Peterson had written me.
I was starting to get in touch with people I had long given up hope of hearing from ever again.
Fast forwarding a bit I got into a chat room with several First Platoon members who were just a short distance away in their own Ambush Patrol on the night Chuck got killed.
Led by Harold "Doc" Peterson and narrated mostly by Dave Taborski thanks Dave, I know it was hard for you I learned a great deal about the details of that night.
I also learned that had I gone instead of Chuck it would be most likely that I too would have been killed.
While I cannot let go of the grief I feel for the loss of Chuck it has helped me put my guilt over the incident into perspective.
Now about the other three hundred and sixty-four days I spent In-country.
FATS' LINKS to see if there is anything else you can use.
You will find various writings interspersed among the pages.
Please just drop me a line and let me know.
Be well, John Fats Spizzirri Vietnamit was 32 years ago for me, or was it yesterday?
The following happened sometime in 1968on the wire at Camp Books,Danang.
As I remember itwe were on a hightened alert due to V.
I was on a 3 man post on the wirenear where the NCO Club was eventually built.
I used to like to take the last watchsince I always enjoyed seeing the sun come up it meant I had lived through another night in Vietnam.
In any eventI used to save C-Rat peanut butter and coffee and stuff to eat on my watch to kill time and to stay awake.
I was with a couple of jokers on that post and we used to "do things" to each other to freak the others out.
I was out cold in the bunkerwhen I felt something moving on my chest I was sleeping on my back using my helmet for a pillow.
As I opened my eyes and my vision clearedthere on my right chest was a huge rat that had eaten through my utility shirt pocket and was now dining on my peanut butter and whatever else I had saved.
To say I almost shit in my pants would be an understatement!
Since the other two jarheads were upI and my friend the rat were alone in the bunker.
Having heard the "fact" that rats always go for your throat when cornered, I gingerly moved around as if I were turning in my sleep.
As I turnedI quickly grabbed my M-16.
The rat now jumped off of me onto the bunker floor.
I opened up on the son of a bitch with an entire magazine.
I actually got the bastardthough I still don't know how I didn't kill my self with a ricohetteas the bunker walls were made of thick timber.
My postmates hearing me firing my weapon on full auto now also joined me with their weapons firing on full auto at the unseen hordes of Viet Cong that I had obviously seen approaching our position.
Needless to saythe entire line now also opened up on the many Godless Communists attempting to overrun all positions.
After quite a large amount of ordanence was expendedincluding of course illumination and mortar roundsa cease fire was called by the C.
When I explained to my fellow Marines exactly what had transpired and showed them my "confirmed kill",we all had a good laugh.
Like good Marines they never "ratted" me outand the C.
I then acquired the handle RATMAN from my two brothers.
When asked by othersI would never divulge the real storybutkept them all guessing.
My apologies to my Uncle Sam for causing the wasting of his ammo that night in 1968.
I can remember a few early evenings of solitude and sitting on mountains in the central highland looking out at some of the most beautiful country one could imagine.
Then you would turn 180% and it was like the worse possible destruction you would ever want to see.
I read this on a latrine wall in Quang Tri.
It struck me as one of the funniest things I ever laughed at.
I guess the timing was perfect.
Was transported to a hospital in Saigon or Ho Chi Mihn City, for repair on my dislocated leg in a chopper called a Huey also i saw Cobra Choppers Firing on NVA which had a lot of machine guns rockets on the choppers gunners etc.
We called our base "The Atlantic City of the South China Sea".
Tuy Hoa Air Base.
Whitch was actually at Phu Hip.
Down the beach a couple of miles Was the 91st Med Evac hospital.
There was a 105 fire base to our north on top of Tuy Hoa mountain, which would fire constantly on to positions south west of their location and west of Hiway 1.
We called that the little Hoa Chi Minh trail because it came off of the main HCM trail and down the river toward Hiway 1.
Also south of us about 20 Kicks was Vaung Roa Bay, where the Fuel tanker ships would dock, This was controled by Army POL.
The pipe line overland to Tuy Hoa Air Base was controled by the Army, Air Force and "Charlie".
I waorked at the Fuel "Pits", which was an air transportable Fueling system.
We were located imagitivley at the end of the ASP Alumimum Sectional Platform flight line right next to the North West perimiter.
The only thing that kept "Charlie " from us was some constantenna wire and rice patties.
They had tken the weapons that we carried 10,000 miles to supply the ARVN or whoever.
Our protection was supposed to come from the 250 Security Police that were also stationed at the base.
Well for a while we at contingents of the 173rd AB Brigade, and the ROK Marines stationed near by.
But it was a strange war.
John Kolsun, Thanks for all your help in locating my friends from the 25th Med Dispensary and also for asking me to share this poem that I wrote when I was 15 years old because I knew you guys were getting a very raw deal from the people here in your own country.
To all you Vietnam Vets, you are MY heroes and WELCOME HOME!
Somewhere in a foreign land, A little place called Vietnam, There's some mother's only boy, One, who used to laugh with joy.
Laying, now moaning in pain, Is all his anguish in vain?
Where is America's support, For all our boys in a foreign port?
Sure, our letters are filled with love, And we offer prayers to the One above, But, tell me, what good are prayer, When no one really seems to care?
There's more concer this time of year For America's happiness and cheer.
But what about our boys so far away, Would you trade places with them on Christmas Day?
Written December 21, 1966 by Carolyn McGuire My remberence, would be of my friend Johnnie Pryear ,he saved my life and some others too.
Johnnie was killed about two or three wks, after this incident.
Johnnie would always walk with his pants legs rolled up.
Coming into base camp after an endless time in the boonys,I was pretty hungry for anything sweet to eat and soft to lay on.
Passing a mess tent I happened to see someone take a carton of chocolate milk from a container, also close to this tent there was an air mattress and a mosquito netting.
Being desperate I borrowed these items along with some ice to keep my milk cold.
I took these items to our perimeter bunker, hung my mosquito netting from the rafters, blew up my air mattress, and hid my milk and ice, them settled down for a good nights sleep.
I awoke a short time later to feel something crawling across my legs.
My first thought was "SNAKE".
I was never more scared in my life at that moment.
Jumping up forgeting the netting, yelling, some said screaming like a girl, but I doubt that, I went down again entangled in the netting with the biggest rat I have ever seem.
The next morning after returning the borrowed netting, I sat down to enjoy my cold chocolate milk.
About the second chug I realized the milk had a chunky texture and was not very sweet.
Was this a set-up?
Did this happen to anyone else?
Moved with 4th from Ft.
Lewis in 1966 to Dragon Mountain base camp later called camp Enari after lst officer assigned to 4th that was KIA in the Nam Anyway, was at base camp one evening and went to get something to eat at the mess tent.
By that time, a lot of nationals had been hired to do work within the camp.
There was a young girl, about 4 ft tall and she had one of those BIG beetles with a thread tied around it's neck.
She was playing with it letting it fly around but she had control of it.
I'm sure you remember the kind, sounded like a B29 flying around.
Anyway, a couple of the GIs took it away from her and teased her with it.
They would spin it around on the thread and it would get dizzy I guess and buzz and then not buzz and try to fly but couldn't fly straight and so forth.
The girl got real mad and tried to get the beetle back and was screaming and hitting the GIs as hard as she could.
After a couple of minutes, I said "For crying out loud, Give it back to her.
As she bit it, there was a big cracking sound and looking at her, I could see its back legs hanging out of her mouth and wiggling.
Boy, I lost my need for anything to eat in a real hurry that night.
Did try to drink two cases of beer that night but the darn dirt floor of the tent jumped up and hit me in the face.
That kind of put an end to the drinking that night.
Talking about pucker power well I drove 5000 gallons of jet fuel JP4 threw the mountains,rubber plantations with the 47th Trans Co.
Yes there was times you couldn't drive a straight pin up my butt hole with a sledge hammer.
Just had to write on the wall.
Thanks for a great site I have it on my website as a great link Got of that northwest jet in saigon and the first thing that struck me was the smell and the heat.!!!

Buffet at Atlantis Hotel in Reno NV

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