Chapter 3
A RUDE AWAKENING
I spent the next few days trying to keep busy.
I received a letter from home; it was good to hear from the family. I wrote a letter back, to let them know I was okay. I missed them all, and home seemed so very far away. I kept thinking about what it would be like out there, in the bush.
Finally, we received the orders for our mission from Captain Brooks and Lieutenant Fellows. After the briefing, we had a team meeting, and Sergeant Jakes gave us his outline:
“You dudes are green, so listen up. We are going to check out a village, about three klicks east of the base; a patrol received sniper-fire from that area. Once there, we will secure the village, then wait to receive further orders. The platoon will be out on recon for some time.”
As I sat next to Green and listened to Sarge, I kept thinking about those guys we saw coming in; I prayed we would all make it back from the mission.
Sarge went on, directing most of his attention on us new guys: “Listen up, people. I want you packed light; get your heads screwed on tight. You are to lock and load your weapons, as soon as we clear the perimeter; have weapons drawn and be ready to rock and roll. Remember to follow my directions at all times, without question.”
He grabbed my shoulder; “Doc, let’s have a look at that weapon.”
I could see Green smiling, as Sarge carefully looked over the weapon and smiled. “I see the extra training did you some good.
“Listen up, Doc: please use this helmet. You can wear the one with the cross back at the base; this regular one is for the bush. There are no rules out there; our dear friend Charlie would be looking to take you out first. Believe me, I saw it happen.”
“Thanks, Sarge,” I replied, as I tried the new helmet on - it was a perfect fit. I had never thought of it before, but he was right: there are no rules out there. The thought of being shot in the head was terrifying to me, and I was scared. We were going into the unknown, and there was so much to learn. One thing was for sure: I wasn’t going to wear that helmet again.
Sarge continued: “All of you, watch me or Corporal Green. Stay close, pay attention to us and follow your instincts. If any of you should get separated or lost, don’t yell out: it’s the worst thing to do! With a little luck, most of us will make it out of here alive.”
Before the briefing ended, Sarge told us to check out his gear and pack ours the same way. Following his example saved each person about twenty pounds of junk which wasn’t worth carrying. Each man carried at much as fifty pounds of gear, depending on the type of weapon he used. I myself carried a med kit, a small radio, an M-16 rifle, a .38 revolver, a knife, ammo and grenades. Added to that, there was also a rain poncho, a small blanket, bug lotion and food rations. Even so, most of my gear consisted of the bare essentials for jungle survival. They did a com check on the unit radio: it was ready to go.
As I finished packing my gear, Green came over. “Hey, Doc, you’ll do yourself right listening to Sarge: he knows this war; he has been through some shit and made it out alive. We can count on him, for sure.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “I’m glad the lieutenant isn’t going: he’d probably get us all killed! I know Sarge is a good man, but he has a way of shaking me up.”
Green added: “You know, Doc, it’s okay to feel scared. I get scared every time I get ready to go out there. Hell, we’re all scared!”
“Thanks, man,” I said. “It’s good to hear I’m not the only one. I just want to do my job and make it back home in one piece.”
Green smiled: “Brother, for a white boy you’re not so dumb, after all. How about we watch out for each other, until we get our tickets back home?”
“You got that one right: we need to stick together. When I first got here someone told me that the only person you can trust is yourself and the soldier next to you.”
Green smiled again; “Amen to that, brother. We got to keep it together.”
*
That night was black and cool.
I felt anxious about the mission, unable to sleep. I went outside and found Green, sitting with his eyes closed. As I quietly moved closer, I noticed a silver cross and chain hanging from his folded hands; he was praying.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He opened his eyes, startled. “Damn, Doc! Don’t be sneaking up on me like that.” Then, he smiled. “I see you can’t sleep too easy, either; have a seat. I just got me a letter from my girl: she said I’m going to be a papa.”
“Congratulations,” I replied. “Someday, I hope to start a family myself - if I ever find the right girl. I’d like to buy us a little house, back home, maybe up in the hills.” I looked at Green, as he sat there smiling at me.
“Don’t go a-worrying, Doc: you’ll find a nice girl. I can’t wait to get back home and see my little baby - I was just praying for the chance, when you came upon me.”
“I noticed,” I replied. “I pray, too: it seems to help calm me down.”
Green smiled: “Amen, brother; we can all find peace in the Lord.”
We talked some more about home, about religion and about our fear.
“It’s the nights that get to me,” I said; “there’s something strange about the shadows, that gives me the creeps.”
“Oh, now don’t worry, Doc. It bothered me at first, too; I have my fear, too. You got to get used to it, is all.”
With a serious look now crossing his face, he continued: “It was different for me before: I had only me to worry about. But, now, I’m going to be a father!” I could see the fear in his eyes, as he continued: “I have to make it back! I fear just the thought of never seeing my child.”
I told him I would pray for his safe return, and his face gradually lightened into a smile.
“Doc, if you would do that for me, then I might say one for you, now and then.”
We sat there in silence, looking out into the cool, black night. It felt good to have a friend, in this place of darkness.
Now and then, we could see orange flashes of light, out on the horizon, and hear the muffled rumble of artillery. I wondered what the enemy was doing, out there in the darkness.
I slept uneasily that night, amidst the occasional sounds of artillery in the background, mixed with the sounds of the jungle, which was waiting for us.
*
The team was up and ready the next morning, before sunrise. As I sat there eating some chow, I noticed that everyone seemed excited about our first mission.
I realized it was almost a month since I had landed in Vietnam - I hoped the rest of my time here would pass just as quickly.
We formed up and moved out, in line, following the trail to the east. Sarge was at point, with Green and myself just behind, as we found our way through the cool, early-morning mist of the jungle.
The morning filled my senses. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the canopy above, adding a glow to the foliage; the morning air was so earthy and clean, it was invigorating, as I kept moving, watching and listening to the jungle ahead. At the request of Sarge, I turned back now and then to check that the men were still moving in line behind us.
I noticed Private Yavik was walking behind me; he still had his weapon on his shoulder. This dude was a rather laid-back and sloppy kind of person. During training, he never paid attention and got his butt chewed out all the time. He got the whole unit in trouble once, when he wouldn’t admit that he had left beer cans outside the barracks. We all knew it was Yavik, but he didn’t care. I didn’t like him walking so close behind me, and I didn’t trust him. I moved ahead, staying behind Green.
I checked my clips: they were taped together, like Sarge’s. He said it would save time – and, maybe your life - in a firefight.
The team had not got very far - maybe two klicks from the camp - when the trail started to ascend a ridge, with a sharp bend ahead. Just as we turned it, Sarge stopped and suddenly raised his weapon. Green yelled out: “V.C.! V.C.!”
A small group of V.C. suddenly appeared, on the trail, about thirty yards ahead of us, and my body tightened, as I realized the enemy was now upon us. They saw us, too, and rapidly started to draw their weapons.
I was scared stiff; I could feel my hands starting to tremble. It all happened so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.
Sarge dropped to the ground; Green and I did likewise. Instinctively, I fired two bursts with the M-16: the first missed, but the second hit the V.C., just to the right, and he went down. I had just let go of another burst, against the guy just behind him, but he got off his own rounds, just as my bullets hit him. It was my first time hearing the snap of the bullets, as they flew over me, and I shook with fear, staying close to the ground. Sarge and Green hit their targets, and the V.C. went down, screaming.
Then, the shooting slowed, and I saw no more V.C.; the encounter was over in less than ten seconds. I lay still on the ground for a moment more, gathering myself.
Sarge yelled out: “Hold fire! Hold your fire!”
I could see Green looking my way; he gave me the hold signal.
All was quiet, except for the screaming of Private Yavik; he had caught the rounds which went over me, as he was trying to draw his weapon. I watched Sarge and Green, as they checked the V.C., while the team moved in Sarge’s direction, to check and secure the area.
I crawled over to Yavik and did what I could, but he was hit bad. Blood was spurting from his mouth, as he tried to talk, and I gathered myself as I tried to save him. Green held Yavik still, as I injected a syringe of morphine. Then, I tried pressure bandages, but the blood kept pouring out, as I gave him C.P.R. - before long, I was covered in blood. Soon, his body grew limp and his pulse was just a flutter.
I felt utterly helpless, but I had done all I could. It’s not my fault! I kept thinking to myself, over and over; I had done what I was trained to do - Yavik just didn’t want to listen. I sat there, my bloody hands shaking, as the life drained out of him. He was dead by the time Sarge came back over to check on him.
“What the hell, Doc?! Is he gonna make it?”
“No way, Sarge; he’s gone. I’m sorry, man: I tried, but he lost too much blood. I think one of the bullets hit his main artery.”
“It’s okay, Doc,” Sarge said, as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “The first one is always the hardest.”
Sarge reached down and pulled off Yavik’s dog-tags. “Okay, people, let’s get him bagged up.”
I just stood there, feeling kind of numb, with bloody bandages all around me, and looked at Sarge, as he called the base. I noticed Green, looking at my hands: they were shaking again. He kept staring at me, as he moved closer.
“Doc, you okay? You did good. Just try to take it easy.”
“Thanks. I’ll be okay,” I replied, as he helped me to get cleaned up. I liked Green: he had a good sense of humor, and could handle himself well in the field.
Sarge called in again: “Bravo, R-Team. Do you copy?”
Base replied straight away: “Roger, R-Team: Bravo is ready. Over.”
Sarge explained: “Bravo, we had enemy contact – repeat: enemy contact. All is quiet now, at grid sector four. Copy: request assistance for pickup. Over.”
Bravo replied: “Roger, R-Team; we copy that. E.T.A. at your grid sector in sixty; to your smoke. Over.” A detail was coming to take Yavik and the dead V.C. back to camp.
That was my first taste of war - a rude awakening to what was to come. I prayed to the Lord, to help me overcome the fear I felt inside. I had just killed a man, and I asked for forgiveness of the worst sin. At times, the words just came to me, and I had to say them - it seemed to calm me down. I prayed mostly at night, alone, in the dark silence.
Soon, our orders came in. We were advised to set camp for the night; a patrol was sent ahead, to see if there were more V.C. in the immediate area.
As soon as we had camp set up, Sarge called us around him; I knew he was going to give us some heat about what had happened. The way I looked at it, any advice from him could only help. Sergeant Jakes was not a very big man: he stood about five-eight tall, and maybe one-hundred-and-sixty pounds. He was right about my size, but he carried an air of street-smart toughness one needed to lead a team. He walked over to stand by Green and me.
“Rob, I want you to know you did okay out there this morning.” Then, he walked around, looking over the troops. “The rest of you dudes better keep your heads on straight and your finger on the trigger. I think you all learned what happens when you make a mistake out here.” He paced about, looking us over as he continued: “Yes, people: you can get yourself killed! Yavik - that poor soul - bought it because of mistakes: he didn’t listen, when he was told to have his weapon ready on patrol.”
Most of the men stayed quiet. I felt lucky to have Sarge and Green with me when it went down. I thought about Yavik, but I knew I had done my best to help him. I realized that I had better get used to the bullets and bandages: this was war, and men were going to die.
It was not easy putting Yavik into a body-bag; it took three of us just to lift him into it. For me, as Sarge closed the zipper over his face, it was a grim reminder of death.
Everyone else was taking a break; it was getting hot and humid. Then, Sarge walked off with Green, the two of them looking at a map and talking on the radio.
I was drinking some water, reflecting on Sarge’s words, when I noticed one of the men laughing to himself.
“Man, that Sarge is one tough character,” he said.
At that, he started walking around us, trying to imitate the way Sarge talked as he paced about. Some of the guys were amused, but I didn’t think it was so funny.
Unfortunately for him, Sarge had to come back for something, and I could see Sarge’s jaw tighten, as he leapt up in the dude’s face: “What’s so damn funny, boy?”
The comedian snapped to attention, as he replied: “Nothing, Sergeant Jakes, sir!”
Sarge suddenly developed a slight grin, as he added: “Guess what, Private? You’re coming on point - that’s right in front of me - so I can hear all your jokes.”
Then, he shouted: “Listen up, all of you. Whenever there is weapons-fire, the first thing to do is hit the ground; straight down to the earth! During a firefight, you all need to remember that the enemy is there and he is trying to shoot your head off!”
He sure had a way of getting our attention. I didn’t think anyone was going to forget what happened to Yavik, but Sarge was right - even if he had a tough way of making his point. I felt that he really did care about what happened to us.
*
Our camp was in a little clearing, just off the main trail.
Sarge asked me to lend a hand, setting up Claymores. He and Green had set up our defensive perimeter: there would be two guards rotated out, all night, to watch the trail. After what happened, we felt the V.C. would be waiting for a chance to hit us.
After chow, I sat with Green and Sarge. We talked of our plan to check out the village the next day, and of the news going about, regarding the village of My Lai: Sarge said that he had heard from one of his old buddies in Bravo Company, a few days ago, that Charlie Company appeared to have lost it and wasted a lot of innocent people over there. All were strung out, and angry at losing men to booby traps and snipers. We heard that Charlie had another inexperienced captain, like our Captain Brooks.
We settled in for the night, trying to get some sleep, but the damned mosquitoes were swarming! We passed around the bug lotion. I pulled my poncho over my head, hugged my rifle and tried to doze off, but I continuously worried about the V.C.: the enemy was out there, somewhere, in the darkness. Our first black night in the bush was filled with a strange, new chorus of sounds: monkeys, birds and insects. It was a dark and scary new world out here, for most of us.
*
I awoke early the following morning and headed for some coffee. Green handed me a cup.
“Hey, Doc. You look like you can use some. How you doing?”
“Thanks, man. I’ll be alright,” I replied. “I feel like hell! Didn’t sleep too good with all them damn bugs.”
One of the other troops came over for coffee. He looked worse than me; his puffy face was full of bug bites.
Green smiled, “You guys gonna be alright; you just gotta get used to it out here.”
After chow we all gathered up our gear and headed out on the trail, heading east; Sarge was on point. I felt a little better with a full stomach.
Sarge called in to base, for a radio check; we had to keep in touch at regular intervals.
When we were about half a klick from the village, Sarge gave the hand signal to hold, and summoned the M-60 team over. Our unit had two M-60 heavy machine-guns, with two men to a team, plus an extra man if needed to help carry ammo.
“I want one M-60 team set up by the north and one at the south sections of the village, to cover our backs and watch for Charlie running out the back door,” he said. “Radio when you are in position and check your fire: we don’t want friendly people hurt.”
The M-60 teams gathered and moved out. According to the plan, Sarge, Green and I, along with the rest of the team, would come slowly toward the village, from the west side of the trail, to see if we draw any enemy gunfire. The machine-gun teams eventually reported that they were in position, so we started our approach.
We were about three-hundred yards west of the outskirts of the village, when the first round whizzed past me. I dropped to the dirt, trying my best to calm down, as more rounds snapped overhead. I moved slowly. There, by the trees, I could see black figures: the V.C. moving.
They started running for cover when the M-60s suddenly opened fire, as they reached the edge of the jungle. The guns caught us all by surprise.
Sarge came crawling over; “Listen up: I just sent another team south, to see if any V.C. made it into the jungle; they just might try to come up on our flank.”
We kept moving slowly, looking for V.C. I could hear the firefight intensifying behind us, as the M-60s fell silent. Sure enough, we also heard gunfire to our south: our guys must have caught some of the V.C. moving behind us.
I kept crawling toward the village, hoping that the VC were not waiting to ambush us. I tried to stay focused, but I couldn’t help feeling the fear.
Sarge signaled to hold, and we stopped. There, we waited until the shooting stopped, as he did a radio check with both M-60 teams and the men on our flank.
Green came running over to my side. “You okay, Doc?”
“Okay, pal,” I replied. “I’m just so damn nervous!”
Green smiled: “Don’t worry; we’re gonna be alright. You just keep your head down.”
We continued to crawl our way toward the village, and my nerves were on edge, the adrenalin pumping, as we drew closer. I could see the dead V.C. by the tree line, as we passed them.
Suddenly, a movement! Swinging my gun, by instinct, I saw an old lady come running out of the first hooch, with a young girl at her side. Thank God I hesitated for a moment; I almost shot them! I was so scared of ending up in a body bag, like Yavik… I tried to calm down; stay focused.
Green helped me, as we slowly moved the civilians inside the hooch. I checked it first, and it was clear. The villagers looked scared; the girl was crying.
“I’ll be okay here with them, Doc,” Green said; “you go get Sarge.”
Slowly, the team began to check the rest of the village; I found an old man and two more young girls. All any of them kept saying, over and over, was: “No V.C.! No V.C.!” The children were crying; they looked so afraid of me.
I felt helpless, and not sure of what I should do, until Sarge came over. He said something to the villagers, but they looked even more scared of him than of me! I told Sarge that Green was with two more villagers, whom we had found as we came in.
“Okay, Doc,” he said, “let’s bring them all together. You and Green stay with them; I need to check out the perimeter.”
With Green, we moved them all to the first hooch. They were still terrified of us, and I felt sorry for them, especially the children. We tried to calm them down, but they didn’t understand English. So, I gave them some candy bars and water - it seemed to quiet them down some.
Green smiled, as he handed them two more candy bars; “Good idea, Doc: I think they like the candy.”
I gave the old woman a blanket. She looked it over and seemed to like it, as she wrapped it around the little girl. They started to see that we meant them no harm, which seemed to help. I could see that most of the villagers had minor injuries - bruises, cuts, scrapes – and I decided to check them out.
Sarge came in. “The rest of the village is clean,” he said. “The other teams are coming in. Doc, we got two wounded men.”
I grabbed my pack and left.
We moved the wounded men toward an empty hooch and, to my surprise, one of them was a V.C. I had them set the V.C. down outside the hooch; I would help him later. Private Anderson we moved inside. A young dude with our M-60 team, he had been hit in the shoulder and forearm by R.P.G. fragments. It wasn’t too bad, but he was in serious pain, and was going to need a few stitches.
He grabbed my arm; “Doc, it’s burning, man! My arm, Doc! It’s on fire, man!”
“Calm down,” I told him; “try not to think about the pain. You’re going to feel better in a minute.”
He started screaming when I cut away his shirt. I had two men help hold him still, as I gave him an injection of morphine, then antibiotics. He held my hand and then smiled, as the morphine took effect. I finished cleaning the wounds and wrapped the bandages, good and tight.
“Hey, Doc,” he said, “I feel much better now. Thanks for the shot. How bad is it?”
“Listen, Anderson,” I replied, “you’re going to be okay. You’re going back to Com 1, to get a few fragments out of your arm; you’re going for a nice vacation, my man. Get some rest until we can get you airvac.”
I went outside and found Green standing over the V.C., his .45 in his hand. “How is Anderson, Doc?” he asked.
“He’s going to be okay,” I replied, starting to work on the wounded prisoner. “He got fragment wounds; he needs to get to the hospital and get them cleaned out.”
The V.C. had been hit in the knee and it was a mess. It was strange: just minutes ago we were engaged in battle, and now I was patching the guy up. I prayed that they would do the same for us. He was bleeding badly, bone protruding and cartilage hanging from his leg. He was moaning, obviously in pain, and it looked like he was in shock. Green held the V.C. down, as I gave him the same medication I gave to Anderson. Then, I wrapped his leg up in bandages.
Sarge called in to the base, to say that we had fourteen dead V.C., one wounded prisoner and one wounded G.I. Base confirmed that there would be a medevac here soon, for the wounded, and to take the civilians back to base.
I went back to the other hooch, where the old lady and the girls now looked a little better. I cleaned some of their cuts and put a few small bandages on them. Then, I gave them some water. As I stood up to leave, the old man and women bowed, and said something in Vietnamese: I think it was their way of saying thanks. Sadly, I later found out that the girls had been raped and beaten by the V.C.
Sarge came over. “Doc, the L.Z. is set – they’ll be here in a few minutes. We need to take these people over there, now.”
Green gave me a hand with the wounded prisoner, though Anderson was doing a little better; he insisted that he could walk by himself. He almost fell, but Sarge grabbed him and carried him over his shoulder, as we made our way toward the L.Z. We could hear the thumping sound of the chopper, as we approached the clearing.
The medevac chopper came in low, over the treetops, and swung around above the clearing. The incredible force of the rotor wash flattened the tall grass, as the big, noisy chopper slowly descended.
Quickly, we moved everyone on board; Anderson sat by the gunner. I was just about out of meds and bandages, so whilst it was there, I got myself a new med kit.
After the chopper took off again, I could see Anderson waving to us, as it circled the clearing, then finally soared up over the treetops.
Then, the team got busy, setting up camp for the night. Air Cavalry was coming in the morning, to drop off some supplies.
*
The next morning was overcast and cool. There was no rain, yet, but it probably would later - the rain seemed constant in Vietnam.
Green and I were eating C-rations and cleaning our guns, when he asked: “Doc, how do you feel ‘bout helping that V.C.?”
I’d had a feeling he was going to ask me that. “Strange is the best way to explain it,” I replied. “But, I guess it’s my duty, even if I don’t like it.”
Green smiled, “Yeah, Doc, I know what you mean.”
I added: “Besides, man, he’s out of this war for good, now.”
“You’re right, Doc: we don’t have to be worrying ‘bout him no more.”
Our team was getting ready to leave, as the distant sound of the choppers moved closer. We moved to the clearing, where Sarge had us form a defensive perimeter.
There were three of them: one bigger supply chopper and two Cobra gunships, bristling with weapons. They set down, to the yellow smoke, in the small clearing behind the village.
A small squad of soldiers alighted and moved toward us - it was good to see them. The bad news was that Lieutenant Fellows was amongst them.
“Good work, men,” Fellows said. “Sergeant Jakes, I have a change in your orders. My team, Sigma 1, will stay here and mop up this mess; your unit is to hook up with elements of a Marine division, at Hill 747. Captain Lena and his group will be expecting you, ASAP - they have run into some heavy resistance, from the high ground, about eight klicks southeast of here. Command wants Charlie off that hill: it is a vantage point for the whole valley. Give us a call on the com-link, if you need assistance.”
The team formed up and went over the map coordinates and com-data for the patrol out, to link up with the 9th Marine unit. We helped unload the choppers and picked up some much-needed supplies.
Sergeant Jakes said: “You know why that jerk Fellows came out here? He’s the one who is going to claim the credit for the V.C. prisoner and the body count. That Fellows dude is going to get his butt kicked one day. Now, let’s get going: we got a long hike to get to that damn hill before dark.”
Before we left, we were told by Lieutenant Fellows to burn the small village. Then, we moved out, double-time, into the ever-present jungle.
A light rain began to fall, as we moved single-file down the trail, quietly making our way toward the bottom of the ridge. After some time, we came to a crossroad of three different trails.
Sarge signaled us to hold, as though he sensed something was wrong. As we stood there, I began to sense it, too: the jungle was too still; there was no noise at all. We both stood there, looking at the trail, as it followed along the ridge, and as I wiped the sweat from my face, a feeling of fear overcame me.
Green came over, looking around, with a strange expression on his face. “Hey, Doc, you see something? What’s up?”
“I don’t know, man, but it feels wrong. It’s too quiet.”
Sarge came over. “Someone has been here. One of those trails was cut not long ago.”
I added: “Hey, Sarge, man, I got some bad karma about this deal.”
Sarge looked serious. “You’re right, Doc; this is no good: that trail looks too easy. And, it’s too quiet here. I think my man Charlie is waiting for us up there, to cut us to pieces. What do you think?”
“That’s a big Roger on that one, sir,” I replied.
Green looked scared, as was I, as he kept looking around us, at the trees. He started talking louder: “It don’t feel right, Doc. Maybe they want us to change trails; it’s a trap, man. How we gonna know which one be right?”
I put my hand on his arm. “Calm down, my man; it’s okay. Hell, I’m scared, too. We just got to figure it out.”
Suddenly, he pulled away and started yelling and acting jumpy; he was really spooked.
I tried to calm myself, to think clearly. As I pulled out the map, I noticed that my hand was shaking again.
Sergeant Jakes was watching Green, closely. He took Green aside and spoke with him for a few minutes, before finally quietening him down.
“Sarge, what are we going to do?” I asked.
He looked around. “Listen, Doc: we’re going to take the back trail over there, and sneak up the ridge on the other side.”
“It looks like it’s above them, sir,” I replied; “if they’re there, we’ll know it.”
Sarge gave me one of his rare smiles; “That is exactly what we will do, Doc, and kick them in the butt first. Make the call back to the lieutenant, to let him know that we are going to lose some time before we get to his hill.”
Sarge filled the team in on his plan, as I called in the news. Lieutenant Fellows was beside himself when he heard the news.
“We can’t waste time because of a feeling!” he replied. “What are you guys - a bunch of sissies? You are to take the main trail - do you copy that? And, don’t give me any crap! Put Sergeant Jakes on the line, right now.”
I could barely speak, I was finding it so hard to keep from laughing. “Negative, sir: Sarge is unavailable at this time. He asked me to advise you that we will be taking an alternate sector route. Please tell the Marines to hold on to their hats; God willing, we will be there by tomorrow.” I could hear Lieutenant Fellows yelling, as I keyed off the radio.
We moved up the ridge-line, following the trail until it felt a little safer, then set up camp for the night. The rain had stopped, but the fog was coming in, as thick as soup.
Green had been quiet for a while. I sat next to him, handing him some water and rations.
He smiled. “Thanks, Doc. I’m sorry ‘bout what happened back on the trail; I feel better now. Thanks for your help - I know you were pretty scared, too. I just don’t know what happened to me: I been scared before, but never feared like that. I think this war is getting to me.”
I replied: “Listen, man, you’re not alone: it’s getting to me, too. My nerves, man… Sometimes my hands shake when I’m scared. Sometimes I say a prayer - it helps me, and maybe it will help you. We should thank the Lord we got Sarge to lead us: he knows from experience.”
Green smiled: “Amen to that, Doc. The Sarge is a good man.”
I stretched out on my blanket. “Now, let’s try to get us some sleep, my friend; we’ll all feel better in the morning.”
Before long, the mosquitoes started swarming. Thank God for Army bug lotion; everyone needed it that night. I pulled my poncho over my head and lay there a while, thinking about the mission and my friend, Green. I prayed for the team and those poor civilians from the village. I didn’t understand why the V.C. had to beat them like that, and I felt sorry for them, especially the children. As I was dozing off, I thought about home - it seemed so far, far away.
*
The next morning was unusually warm. The fog was mostly gone, the sun was burning through the mist and the jungle was in full chorus. The monkeys seemed to be having their own war, as they chased each other through the trees. The smell of the plants, flowers and earth filled my senses, as we quietly moved up the opposite ridge-line. After a few klicks, I was dripping with sweat.
Sarge signaled a hold, as his radio light started blinking.
“This is Sigma 1 – repeat: Sigma 1. What is your twenty? Copy.”
Sarge smiled: “Doc, that sounds like the lieutenant.” He keyed the radio: “Roger that, Sigma 1. R-Team is moving on alternate grid sector four. Do you copy?”
Green moved closer, as we waited. Finally, Sigma 1 replied: “We copy that, R-Team. Be advised, Sigma 1 is coming on primary grid sector three. Over.”
Sarge called back: “Roger, Sigma 1. R-Team advises a big negative on that one. Use alternate grid sector four. Repeat: use grid sector four; possible Victor Charlie. Repeat, possible Victor Charlie. Do you copy?”
Again, we waited. Sarge was pacing back and forth, mumbling something to himself - I noticed he did that when he was upset.
Finally, Sigma 1 replied: “Roger that, R-Team. Be advised: we are on our way, as planned. I will see you at objective for evaluation. Out.”
Sarge was furious; his face tightened. “That stupid idiot!” he said. “It’s Lieutenant Fellows - he’s bringing his team from the village, on the main trail. Let’s move up to our spot, before he gets us all killed!”
The team moved out, double-time, single-file up along the ridge-line. After thirty minutes, my legs were burning with pain, the strain of moving quickly uphill, with full gear, in the heat, almost unbearable. Finally, Sarge signaled to hold, and the team took a five-minute water break. Green and I were trying to catch our breath; we were soaked in sweat.
Sarge said: “The opposite ridge is not far ahead. Everyone is to stay low; move slow and quiet: we don’t want Charlie to know we’re coming.”
We moved out quietly, trying to stay close to cover, as we drew close to the top of the ridge.
Suddenly, we heard all types of gunfire, from the opposite ridge. The V.C. had sprung their trap on the lieutenant, and all hell was breaking loose. There was 50-cal. fire, with its unmistakable thunder, followed AK-47 and R.P.G. rounds. I didn’t know how the V.C. had got those 50-cal. machine-guns, but I knew I didn’t want to be on the receiving end.
My adrenalin was pumping, as Sarge signaled for us to move into firing range. I was scared, but I knew our troops needed help; we had to stop those machine-guns. I moved quickly, crawling to the top with the others. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking, as we got into position.
Heavy fire was coming down the main trail, from the other ridge; I could see the V.C. shooting, and moving about on the opposite ridge-line.
Sarge made the call: “Open fire! Fire at will!”
With that, the platoon unleashed weapons-fire on the unsuspecting enemy. I could see Charlie scrambling around in confusion, and it felt good to catch them at their game, as we kept firing and loading clips. I hit several of them myself, but their 50-cals were dug in. Fortunately, because of our position above them, they couldn’t get at us without moving them.
Sarge sent the call: “Sigma 1, this is R-Team. What is your status? Copy.” We waited, then Sarge called again.
Finally, they called back: “We copy, R-Team. We can’t move! Some men down and wounded.”
Sarge called back: “Copy that, Sigma 1. Hold tight! We’ll come to you.”
They had troops above and below them; it was too tight for us to call for fire support, and we had to find another way. The firefight was sporadic at this point. We kept them pinned in, but we knew that, somehow, we had to get to their 50-cals. We decided to leave part of the team on the ridge, to give us cover fire, and I went with a small group which slowly crawled into position, to use a LAW rocket launcher and a few M-79 grenade launchers.
As we moved to our new vantage point, we could see the V.C., who were trying to move the 50-cals and fire upward, toward the rest of the team. They never got the chance: our LAW rocket ripped into them, exploding in a fireball. We fired the missiles and grenades, one after another, until we had no more. By then, the 50-cals and the V.C. were history.
Afterward, I lay there for a moment, trying to calm down. My hands were trembling again.
Our troops above waited a while, before moving down, to see if there was any enemy movement. Then, slowly, the team made its way toward Sigma 1, looking for any traps or mines Charlie might have set up for us. When we reached the bottom trail, we split up; some went up the opposite ridge, to check on what was left of Charlie. Before separating, we took a few minutes to gather ourselves. We drank some water, then moved out, making our way toward the main trail.
Green came over; “Doc, man, that was something! I shot me a bunch of them V.C.”
“Yeah, man; we got the jump on Charlie,” I replied. “I don’t know about you, man, but I was way scared of those 50-cals!”
Everyone looked tired and dirty. I was exhausted, but my adrenalin was still pumping, and my morale was good: we had defeated Charlie twice, in two days.
Sarge advised Sigma 1 that we were coming their way, and not to move until we had the ridge secured. As we approached, we could make out at least three bodies, sprawled out on the trail ahead. Sarge called to the troops he had sent up on the ridge, to check the enemy position:
“R-Team, how is the high ground?”
“Roger; we’re okay,” they replied. “Looks like we got twenty Charlie K.I.A.”
“Good,” Sarge replied. “Strip them of their guns and ammo. Destroy and disable everything.”
We started heading down toward the bodies, as some of the Sigma 1 squad came out of the jungle. Man, they were glad to see us. I noticed that one of them had minor wounds to his face and hands. We moved closer to the bodies, lying out on the trail.
Such a gruesome sight faced us that my stomach started churning. There, on the ground, was Lieutenant Fellows - with half his head blown off, by a 50-cal. round. Another two men were dead, too - one of them their medic.
Quickly, I moved away from the group and threw up; my hands were shaking again. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to calm down.
Their squad leader came over to us. “Thanks for saving us, man! Man, that lieutenant was a fool! I heard your warning; I tried to change his mind, but he didn’t want to listen to anybody.” He pointed: “We got four wounded men over there.”
Sarge sent me to help attend them, while he called in for a medevac; Green came over and gave me a hand with the wounded men. Two of them were in bad shape, screaming and going into shock. I quickly gave them morphine, then I started on the man who had a missing hand: a tourniquet and pressure bandage did the trick for the bleeding. The other had shrapnel wounds on his legs and an A.K. round in his shoulder, which I packed with bandages. Both men had lost a lot of blood, and I used up most of my bandages. The other two had some frag wounds in the legs and buttocks, but they were handling it well. The medevac needed to get here, ASAP.
Suddenly, to my right, a round went off. One of the men instantly fell to the ground, holding his foot and screaming.
“Mines!” Sarge yelled out. “Everyone stay put.”
Sarge and I moved slowly to the screaming trooper, watching our footsteps, carefully. His foot was a mess of blood, dirt and mine fragments. I cut off his shoe, while Sarge held him and injected morphine. Then, I patched him up with the few bandages I had left.
We got ourselves and the wounded to a safer area, where we set our smoke and waited by the L.Z. Finally, the medevac arrived, and the team moved the wounded aboard, as quickly as possible. I only sighed with relief after they had lifted off through the trees.
Sarge called us over: “Come and take a look at this. I found another mine, just up the trail a little. Those V.C. pricks!”
Green and I followed behind him, on the main trail, where he signaled hold and bent down. Slowly, using his knife, he pried something out of the ground: an AK-47 round in a small piece of pipe. He showed us how it was set to shoot up into your foot, when stepped on.
Sarge gave the order: “I want everyone off this trail. We will backtrack the way we came in.”
*
We moved out of the area and set camp for the night. Everyone looked worn out; I was exhausted. The Marines would have to wait, until Air Cav. dropped off some fresh supplies in the morning. I was almost out of bullets and bandages. I needed to get cleaned up and change my clothes; blood was all over me.
After cleaning up, Green came over, and we had some chow together: good old Army rations and water.
He smiled: “Doc, I is getting mighty tired of this Army grub. Right now, I’d give anything for a nice big slab of my momma’s apple pie. Yes sir, I remember the smell would fill the place when she got to baking some.”
“Man, I know what you mean: there is nothing like home cooking,” I replied. “I sure could use a nice plate of my mother’s homemade cookies, or some of her spaghetti and meatballs. You can come on over for a nice Italian dinner, when we get back home.”
Just the thought of home seemed to brighten our spirits, as we talked for a while.
Sarge came over and we talked about Lieutenant Fellows and the mission, before Green and Sarge left to set up the all-important perimeter watch for the night.
For a while, I lay there and prayed. I kept thinking about Fellows and his men. Then, exhausted, I fell asleep, watching the stars through the trees.
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