Al & Lois Website - Vietnam 1967-68

Al & Lois Website - Vietnam 1967-68 - TO VIETNAM

Vietnam 1967-68 - To Vietnam

Trip to Vietnam

To Oakland CA - First Leg- When I got my orders for Vietnam they were for the Fourth Division, which was in some god-forsaken place called Pleiku. Once I had the written orders in hand there wasn't time to be scared or wonder about whether I could kill someone if I had to. I was to report to Oakland, California in less than thirty days and there were a heck of a lot of things to be done and done fast if I wanted to take much of a leave before "leaving the world." I had to get a physical, five shots, turn in some uniforms, take care of a mountain of red tape, take a one day course in Viet Nam fighting techniques (I had taken it before in boot camp and thought it was a joke, but this time I was very interested), and finally I had to "clear the post." I managed to do all of these things in three days. The medics tried to talk me out of taking all of the shots at once but I insisted that they go ahead and give them to me. That night I found out why they suggested that I spread them out. I felt like I would have to get better to die. By the next morning I felt better though and by four o'clock that afternoon was in a taxi on my way to the airport. By the time I got home to Virginia I had only twenty days left to spend with my wife. For most of those days we avoided talking or even thinking about what was to come. There were relatives to visit, things to fix around the house, love to make, and all of the other things that people normally do. There was even time for a couple of short trips to places we had never been. Everything was done with the realization that it might be the last time I would do it. Finally on November 29, 1967 it was time to leave. As we drove to Dulles airport in silence, the whole event seemed unreal. I still felt like I was going to wake up and find that it had all been a bad dream. We said our goodbyes and I boarded the airplane that was to take me to Oakland, California. During the flight I tried to read, to watch a movie, to do anything that would take my mind off of my current state of affairs. Finally I dozed off and slept fitfully all the way to California.
To Vietnam - Second Leg- After spending two hours waiting in the Oakland airport, the olive drab army bus arrived and took me to the Oakland Army base. Now I knew that I was back in the army. You would think that after traveling all the way across the country and arriving at midnight that they would let you sleep for awhile. But, no such luck. We had to start waiting in line, filling out forms, and doing other nonsensical things. Finally, at four AM, we were allowed to go to bed. I hoped that they would let us sleep late but knew better. At six AM we were awakened by some sadistic sergeant blowing a whistle and then yelling and screaming about getting our butts out of bed before he threw us out. I wished he would choke on that whistle. Somehow we managed to get dressed and make it to formation without anyone getting kicked and after standing there for a half an hour we were told to fall out for chow at 7:30. Now why the heck did they wake us up at 6 AM! After breakfast it was back in formation again for assignment; assignment of what . . . details of course. My first assignment was to guard the baggage racks at the reception center from 1 to 5 that afternoon. I'm not sure just what it was that I was supposed to guard them from, since they were not being used - termites I suppose. Well, I survived that guard detail and also the awful chow that they served for supper in the mess hall and then, you guessed it: another formation! And then to bed? No such luck. We were to fill out more forms tonight. I began to think that they were training us for night warfare. Everything was routine until I got to the legal section and the young Lieutenant there asked me if I had written a Will. At this point where I was headed began to hit home. The next couple of days were uneventful. Details during the day and processing and a little bit of sleep at night. The advantages of being a Spec.4 also became apparent during those couple of days. I found myself doing things like being in charge of delivering people to a certain building and then having a couple of hours off instead of sweeping or pulling KP. I was very thankful for the promotion that I got just before leaving Fort Sill. Finally on the fourth day there I was told to report to the shipping section. The shipping section turned out to be a huge warehouse, with rows and rows of bunks and here and there an island of desks. This was it . . . No more details; no more processing. Just waiting for my "number" to be called. I called my wife and my parents one last time and told them that I loved them and that I expected to leave soon. So far my orders had not been changed and I was still bound for the Fourth at Pleiku. The warehouse was like a morgue. There were hundreds of G.I.s there but the usual "bull" sessions, card games, jokes, radios, and what little laughter there was were all quiet and strained. It was a time for reflection, for fear, and for letters and phone calls to loved ones. As I looked around that room I realized that some of the people there would be dead in a few weeks and that others would lose legs, arms, sight, or otherwise be maimed for life. It wasn't a pleasant thought and since the next logical step would be to wonder if I would be one of them, it was almost with a sense of relief that I heard my name called. It was finally time to go and I was happy to learn that I would be flying to Viet Nam via a Continental Airlines chartered 707 instead of by military transport. The first leg of the trip, from Travis AFB, near San Francisco, to Honolulu was noisy, too noisy. The conversation was strained as we endeavored to keep our minds off of what was to come. During the two hour stop in Honolulu we spent most of our time taking one last look at the people and sights that we were accustomed to seeing. During the next leg, the long one from Honolulu to Clark AFB in the Philippines, most of us tried to sleep. The stewardesses on that flight deserved medals. I don't think a single one of them slept or rested at all on the entire trip, and we had the same crew all the way from California to Viet Nam. Each of them spent at least a few minutes with every soldier on that airplane. These were the last American women that most of us would see or talk to for quite awhile. And for some of us the last that we would ever see!! It was like saying goodbye to our families and to the world that we knew all over again. It was late in the day when we landed in the Philippines and as we taxied down the runways we passed literally hundreds of B-52 bombers and other warplanes. We were told prior to landing to put away our cameras for security reasons (I managed to sneak a picture of a B-52 anyway). We were allowed off the aircraft for only 30 minutes this time. Most of us spent the time looking at each other in the terminal building. A few, including myself, tried to make one last phone call to wives and loved ones. Had we known what was to come we would have spent our time enjoying flush toilets and other indoor plumbing that we take for granted. This time there was silence on the plane during the flight. This leg of our trip, only 2+ hours long, was to terminate in Viet Nam. Even the stewardesses appeared fearful. As I looked around the aircraft I realized that I did not know the name of anyone on it - not even the man sitting next to me - with whom I had spent several hours talking. I did not realize it then but I had already acquired one of the defenses that helps to keep a soldier sane in a war zone. You don't get to know anyone very well - if you do, sooner or later you will be hurt. After flying for about two hours the Senior Stewardess broke the silence by announcing that we would very shortly begin our descent from 40,000 feet and for all of us to fasten our seat belts. I wondered why this veteran of many flights not only fastened her own seat belt but pulled it very tight. I was a frequent air traveler myself and although stewardesses always sat down during landings I don't think that I had ever seen one pull her seat belt tight. I guessed that she was afraid of the war. Boy, Was I ever wrong! After a couple more minutes of level flight, that huge Boeing 707 made a sharp left turn and extremely steep descent or dive with power on! In a few seconds it leveled off sharply at a few thousand feet. When I looked out of the window to see if our wings were still intact I saw another aircraft very close to us. I sure hoped that it was one of ours. As if in answer to my thought the pilot of our plane announced that we had two F-4 Phantom jet fighters as escorts. That was reassuring . . . or was it? Within minutes we had landed and as we were taxiing the crew bid us goodbye and told us to remain seated until our escort had arrived on the plane.
Arrival and First Days in Vietnam- Almost immediately after the door of the aircraft was opened, I noticed the first of many differences in this country and my own. Even though it was 11 o'clock at night and was December 4, it was hot and humid AND IT STUNK. I wondered how anyone could live. . .how I could live. . .in a place that smelled like that. In a few minutes I completely forgot about the climate and the smell and began to worry about staying alive. Our escort, a Sergeant, or was he a one man army, boarded the plane. He was wearing full combat gear and then some - helmet, flack jacket, 45 automatic, machete, several bandoleers of machine gun ammo, grenades, etc. and was carrying an M16 rifle. He wasted no time with greetings but simply said: "Gentlemen, Sometimes when troops disembark from aircraft we receive enemy fire, so I want you to disembark from this aircraft in the following manner; One row at a time I want you to walk, I said walk, briskly down the steps and then keeping low to double time along the yellow lines at the bottom of the steps to the building that you will see several hundred yards directly in front of you. Do not bunch up. Do not talk. And remember to keep low and move rapidly. Upon arrival at the building, you are to enter and take seats." As I waited for my turn to leave the airplane I wondered if there was any way that I could remain on board. Finally my turn came and I did exactly as I had been instructed. I not only kept low but zig-zagged to make myself harder to hit. It was only after reaching the sandbagged wall at the building that I looked around and realized that we were the victims of a joke. Either that or the people that worked at this part of the airfield had a death wish. They were standing around with no combat equipment of any kind and most of them were laughing at us. After we were seated in the shelter our escort walked in and for the first time I noticed that he had spit-shined boots, polished brass, and the bright yellow insignia of rank rather than black combat insignia. Even as a combat veteran of 10 minutes I knew that all of these things were "no-nos" in a combat zone as they make you more visible to the enemy. Shortly after entering the building baggage carts pulled up to the open side and we were told to claim our luggage. After doing this it was explained to us that we were to board buses as our names were called and that we would be taken to the 90th Replacement Co. about 5 miles away at Bien Hoa. I was relieved to learn that we would not have to do any processing tonight but would be allowed to go to bed. Even though it was now midnight I was surprised to see that the town was wide awake. The filth and the stench were unbelievable. The town, or at least the part that we saw, looked worse than any American slum that I have ever seen. Finally we arrived at the compound and were surprised to find two story barracks to sleep in. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all. I am afraid though that I didn't sleep much that night. Beside the anticipation of what was to come next, there was artillery fire in the distance. Later on I heard rifle shots. I kept expecting to be handed a rifle and told to help defend the base. Later on the next day I learned that the airplane that we had arrived on had been shot at on takeoff and that our artillery had returned the fire. Finally morning came and we were told to report to the mess hall for breakfast. Surprise, surprise.....the food was excellent - eggs, bacon, pancakes, juice, coffee.....whatever and as much as we wanted. After breakfast we were gathered into a loose formation and told that we would leave for our units in a day or two. We each gave the clerk a copy of our orders and were told that there were a few details to pull. I got assigned to the latrine detail. I wondered what that could be since the latrines were of the outhouse variety. It didn't take long to find out why it was called a shit detail and also to identify at least part of the odor I had smelled from the moment we arrived here. The reason for the "No Smoking" signs on the latrines was also apparent. When we arrived at the latrine I discovered that the seats had cans under them instead of the usual hole in the ground. Once a day these cans(1/2 of a 55 gallon drum) had to be removed. We then poured about an inch of diesel fuel into them, set them on fire, and stirred them with a very long stick every so often for about an hour. At first this seemed like the most degrading thing that a person could be told to do but we soon realized why most G.I.s considered this to be choice duty. Unlike filling sandbags or pulling K.P. this was physically a very easy job, once you got past the stench. We were also delighted by the fact that we had the rest of the day free. During the time off I began to learn something of the country that I was in. We were not allowed nor was I interested in going outside the compound but I found that many Vietnamese were allowed inside not only to work for Americans but also to operate various concessions. Prices were quite different over here: Haircuts - $ .30; beer - $ .15; cigarettes - $ .15, etc. The people were also quite small - not much over four feet. I also learned that although the people were small, the insects were not. The mosquitos were huge as were flies and most other common insects. They also had others that I had never heard of before. Later that day I met a soldier from the Fourth Division who was there to take troops to Plieku. He said that unless my orders were changed that we would fly to Plieku and then convoy about 15 miles to the division headquarters. A few minutes later I learned that my orders had been changed and that I was to go to the Americal Division at Chu Lai. I can't say that I was upset. Wherever Chu Lai was, flying to it had to be better than convoying to the Fourth. It had only taken a day to learn that travel by air was much safer than travel by road. At six o'clock that afternoon we once again boarded buses for the air base. I was not happy with what I saw when I looked at a map at the airport. Chu Lai was 500 miles north of here and only about 100 miles south of the DMZ. At that time I still had the mistaken impression that the further one went the heavier the action got, I had visions of all sorts of disasters at Chu Lai. I sure did wish for a weapon of some sort.
	To Chu Lai - Last Leg- The flight to Chu Lai was uneventful except that I now knew what cattle must feel like. We were packed into a C130 cargo plane, 25 to a pallet. We sat on our duffel bags. There were only a couple of windows so only a few of us got to see anything at all. I think that we must have stopped at every airfield on the coast. Had I known at the time the statistics regarding sniper fire at airplanes taking off and landing I would have been even more concerned for my welfare, but I did not and we did not get shot at, at least not that I was aware of. Eventually we landed at Chu Lai and this time there were no more sadistic people playing jokes or applying scare tactics. As we walked towards the small wooden terminal building, I was surprised to see that there were no sandbagged walls around it. I supposed that the presence of a large number of fighter jets and helicopters might have something to do with that. What I did not know was that we were out of mortar range from the perimeter and that sandbags were of little use against the rockets that were fired at this area. We then boarded trucks and traveled through the base to the Americal Division Replacement Company at the southern end of the base. What I saw on the way was very encouraging. This base was big! We saw numerous fighter jets, helicopter gunships, tanks, and even a Navy destroyer in the harbor. With all that firepower around I figured that this had to be a pretty safe place. There was a sea breeze chilly enough that I put on my field jacket for warmth. Even the stench seemed to be gone. Maybe this place wasn't going to be so bad after all. When we arrived at the replacement company we again gave a clerk another set of orders and were shown to some tents that would be our home for the next couple of days. Nearby was a large wooden structure not unlike the barracks that we had stayed in Bien Hoa and there were several Quonset huts nearby also. I guess that they must have been for permanent personnel. This night I slept well...the first good night's sleep that I had had in a week. In fact I didn't wake up until about ten the next morning. I awoke to a nasty, drizzly kind of day and boy did that tent leak. I hoped that I wouldn't have to live in it very long. Finally at about three in the afternoon the weather broke and we were taken down to the beach to move some lumber. On the way we were passed by a group of GIs, obviously very happy and apparently on the way home. They shouted all sorts of things at us that I just could not see the humor in - Charlie's gonna get ya, Watch for booby traps on the beach, etc. The loudest and most frequent word we heard was SHORT. I could not understand why they wanted to give us such a bad time. Little did I know that in a year I would be doing exactly the same thing. The beach was beautiful and if it had been warmer I would have somehow managed a swim. But at 55 degrees with the wind blowing like it was I did not try it. When I got back from the beach there was a set of orders and a jeep waiting for me. When I learned that I was being assigned to HSB, Americal Division Artillery I shouted with joy! I had expected the worst and had gotten, or so I thought at the time, the best. Little did I know that in a few weeks I would grow to hate this assignment. It only took me a few minutes to sign out and collect my belongings and then we were on our way. As we traveled down the road, the driver pointed out the PX, USO, Officers Club, Amphitheater, and other such places and told me a bit about my new unit. He was also newly assigned and said that the company was newly formed. They didn't have a radar yet, in fact they didn't have much of anything. I was the first member of the radar team as far as he knew. He tried to tell me that this was a real "chicken" outfit - spit shined boots, polished brass, and all. I couldn't have cared less...it sounded like heaven to me.





	No. I am not still in the army; I was discharged in November of 1969 after completing my 3 year enlistment. This 31 year old Khaki uniform shirt still fits. It is decorated as it was when I went on R&R from Vietnam to Hawaii in 1968.Click here to contact me by Email. This site is best viewed with a maximized 800 x 600 size and a high color display setting. Placing your cursor over any of the pictures will display a description for that picture. The music that is playing on this page is '500 Miles Away From Home', a popular song of the 60s.

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