The night time always brought on the greatest amount of fear.
Late at night, around 2 to 4 in the morning the suffocating heat
of the southeast Asian days would have spent its dynamic impact. A
chill, ever so slight yet compelling in its contrast to the
exhausting daytime standards, would touch the body. Lying on the ground
in ambush or pulling a watch from the foxhole in the
darkness that was unbroken by any other human presents. A grunt alone in fear and now the haunting chill of the early
morning dew sinks deep inside the body with a hint of death, cold and alone.
There was a time during my tour in 1968 that I went crazy. I had died from the pain of seeing the broken and grotesquely
mutilated bodies of the members of Charlie company. I started walking point every day and going on ambush every other
night. This was an act of suicide and murder. Suicide for myself and murder for anyone around me because of the danger
my actions presented. This is a story about one of those ambushes.
We began
the day just like a hundred days before and a hundred days that would follow. The company would begin to move
around at first light. The SITREP's coming over the PRC 25's would become more audible, the voices on the other end
of the radio gaining volume in lock step with the increasing daylight. The louder voices a reflection of less fear and greater
confidence. Now you could see other people and you were not so alone. Now you could hear other voices and the chill was
not so harsh.
From my position with the command group in the center of our
parameter I could watch the platoons and squads and individual
foxholes go through their morning rituals. Someone over there brushing his teeth or someone over there heating water in a
canteen cup with C4 so he can mix powered hot chocolate or foul tasting powered coffee. The more the morning light burned
away the dew the greater the activity within the Company. Someone over there putting on dry socks, someone over there
rolling up his poncho and repacking his ruck sack. An officer stopping by to get his marching orders for the day. A platoon
Sgt. stopping by to report blisters or an infection or a case of FUO for one of his men. The greater activity saw the men
picking up the claymore mines and trip flares in front of their positions. A squawk on the radio would indicate ambushes
announcing their intent to reenter the parameter.
With the daylight fully established and the previous nights
application of mosquito repellent beginning to cause swelling on
my face the CO would order, seemingly without words or motion, Ruck up gentlemen, Move out.
Many times we would move form here to there in two columns. Once we arrived at the new location the platoons would range
out and sweep the surrounding area. Other times we would fan out and sweep a large area while moving toward a new NDP,
(night defensive position). On this particular day we moved in two columns. During the movement one of the platoons
identified and registered a good ambush position for that night.
Sometime around 1600, ( 4:00 pm ) the entire company moved into a new NDP. We dug
foxholes and put up shelters made
out of ponchos. I registered
4.2 inch mortars around our location with illumination. I had learned to always use illumination
as my first round when registering defensive fires. Illumination was a safe round and gave me a good idea of where a HE,
( high explosive ) round would land should I need it later. People hung up their socks to dry and and took off their sweat
soaked shirts in an attempt to air them out. You could see the white streaks of salt laden sweat staining the material. Some
shirts were so thick with these stains that when they dried they could stand up on their own. Grunts opened up C rats and
preformed their individual magic to construct a meal. To
all onlooking eyes we appeared to be preparing to spend the night
in this location.
Around
2200 hours the whole company rucked up and moved out. I
attached
myself to a fire team designated to set up an
ambush in a spot they had chosen earlier. I hooked up with this squad under the pretense that I had a radio and that I could
call for fire if needed. The real reason was simply to give a
grunt a break by allowing him to stay with the company and possibly
get an extra hour of sleep. The grunts needed any break they could get. We set the ambush up along a well used trail. The night
moved to
dawn without incident.. The E-5 in charge of the unit gave the word to
gather our gear, retrieve claymores and Ruck up.
One of the grunts alerted to
a gook on the trail. I looked up and saw an unarmed 40 year old man who looked to me like
he was headed out to farm. The E-5 in charge of
the ambush said, "shoot him". I said, "he is a farmer, man". The E-5
showed me hate in his eyes, puffed up his chest and ordered, "shoot
him". A grunt with an M-79 loaded with buckshot,
thats like a 1 1/2
inch shotgun shell, pulled the trigger on the gook in the trail. I still swear to this day that I saw sparks
fly off
the gooks chest and forehead as the buckshot picked him up and
deposited him on his back in the middle of the
trail.
His arms and legs went
spastic. He was break dancing before its time.
Another grunt pulled out
his .45 and tried to finish the gook off. His first shot hit the gook in the leg.
The grunt stepped
closer and fired a second round which hit the gook in
the arm. The grunt stepped even closer and put a round in the gooks
chest that
either scared him to death or found a sweet spot. Either way, the gook died. We rolled the body of the dead gook
off the trail and finished preparing our ruck sacks for the move to rejoin the company.
We
called the CO on the PRC-25 and reported one VC KIA, no weapon.
Was this murder or just war?
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