WHOOPEE WERE ALL GONNA DIE !

I left Fort Lewis, Washington in the winter with snow on the ground wearing in thin jungle fatigues. The cadre at Fort Lewis had provided us with heavy fatigue jackets which we turned in as we boarded the plane. We flew on chartered commercial planes to Vietnam. The plane landed for refueling in Hawaii and Japan enroute to Vietnam. When we landed in Hawaii we were told we could not leave the airport area. Another soldier and I made an agreement to have a drink in every bar in the airport. We were late for departure, the plane had to be held until we arrived. I was whooping and hollering wearing flowered Hawaiian leis singing Country Joes and The Fish, “Come On All You Big Strong Men . . . . .” One of the stewardesses though I was cute and rode on my lap when she was not busy with her in flight duties. In Japan we were told to stay on the plane as we were on the runway of a military airbase. The flight landed in Cam Ran Bay. When the door opened it felt like we were in hell at 100 degrees or more, AND WE WERE!

(My inprocessing and training at the Screaming Eagle Replacement Training Center to be added here)

Upon arrival at my unit, 1/501 Infantry, my hopes for a rear job in a hospital were quickly dashed. I was to be assigned as a combat medic with an infantry unit. The night before I was to go to the field another medic took me aside. He told me he too had come to Vietnam as a conscientious objector but changed his position telling me, ‘tomorrow people will be trying to kill you.’ The next day when I was drawing equipment (rucksack, canteens, C-rations etc) the arms room was the first stop so asked for a pistol (45 Auto), a medics usual weapon and a box of ammo. I was familiar with weapons as I had taken rifle training, shot trap and hunted with both 22 rifles and shotguns. The guys showed me how to clean the 45 and I was off to the field the next day.

LOST IN THE JUNGLE

‘You won’t fall out, doc.’ I went to the field on a log bird (helicopter on a logistics/supply mission). We sat with our legs dangling out the door and not much to hold onto. When the helicopter made banked turns it seemed we would fall out however inertia/centrifugal force kept us in. We were told to keep our heads low and clear the whirling blades when we landed. At a later reunion Mark told me I was going in the wrong direction and he pulled me down so I would not get hit by the blades. I didn’t remember this, but thanks Mark!

One squad had been sent to pick up the new medic and supplies such as ammo, rations and supplies in a usual SP package. The SP package had cigarettes, candy, paper and pens, boot laces and other ‘nice to have’ items. They told me, ‘We have an NDP up the hill.’ I had no idea what an NDP was (Night Defensive Position) and did not want to ask and seem stupid so said, ‘OK”. I was carrying a full rucksack with food, water, medical supplies and my ammo and was clearly out of shape in comparison to these guys who ran up and down hills all day long. We were not required to do PT (physical training) at Fort Knox and the most strenuous thing I had done since Basic/AIT was volleyball at the hospital picnic.

We headed up a narrow trail; in the jungle you cannot see much more than a few feet ahead. I was following the machine gunner and lost sight of him; I could not keep up with the group. I came to a fork in the trail and did not know which trail he had taken, left or right. Again I did not want to seem stupid so did, ‘Eeenie meenie miney mo’ and took the wrong trail. I had arrived in the rainy season and the jungle was muddy most of the time. I was going up an incline and slipped in the mud and fell down. I looked up and saw a spider web across the trail just beyond where I had slipped and fell. ‘There is no machine gunner up there’ ahead of me on the trail I told myself. I was all alone in the jungle with enemy maybe anywhere. I did not see how my dying half way around the world alone in the jungle was going to help make the world safe for democracy.

I decided my best first course of action would be to load my 45. When I had drawn equipment I had got my weapon and ammo first. The pistol was on my belt but the ammo was in the bottom of my rucksack (another beginner move). I had to get everything out of my rucksack to get my box of ammo to load my pistol and extra magazine. Next I considered my best course of action. Backtrack down the trail hoping to find the correct trail to the NDP? I might get more lost and be harder to find? Continue on the current trail? Stay were I was and hope to be found? While contemplating my fate I heard voices, “Doc, doc, hey doc.” I had watched war movies in the past and seen the enemy imitate American voices to fool our troops. Should I give away my position? Sooner or later someone would find me and I wanted it to be US troops. ‘Over here’ I said quietly. The guys were laughing when they found me and made sure I got back to the NDP where I met the rest of the platoon.

I had been told I was to replace a medic that had been ‘injured.’ Later I found out what really happened to the medic I replaced. The platoon had been cutting an LZ (landing zone) in the jungle to take resupply. Tall trees were taken down with the plastic explosive, C-4, which we also used for heating water and rations by burning. The medic I replaced was on the LZ when the trees were being blown. The guys told him to move; that he was a risk to be hit by a falling tree but he refused. With a final warning the tree was blown and fell on him, smashing his face. The guys told me they took a mirror for him to look at his injured face and told him, ‘You don’t look so good doc.’

Unlike my predecessor I got along well with the guys in my platoon and have been able to have two reunions with them. They did not blow any trees on me (I would have probably followed instructions).