Some years ago, we invested in a digital contraption which would convert 35 millimeter slides to digital images. In 1967, upon my arrival in beautiful southeast Asia, one of my first purchases at the Da Nang PX was a Cannon 35MM camera, to preserve what I hoped would be a once in once a life-time experience. So as we fast forward some 50-plus years, the result was revisiting places and people frozen in time during some very turbulent years….a nation divided, polarized and not so different from today, albeit as a result of different issues.
As I took that trip down memory lane, I saw images of people I hadn't thought about in years and I posted a couple of photos on my Facebook page from so long ago. The response was unexpected with some even requesting a story about my Vietnam experiences. So for the boys who served in the 11th Marines, Headquarters Battery, from February of 1967 thru March of 1968, this one's for you.
Just
an average kid from Oklahoma, 22 years old, married and working as a
communication's sales representative for Southwestern Bell in OKC. The military recruiting services were right across the street, in the American General
Building, from our offices at 707 North Robinson. The recruiting services had
been assigned to me for handling within Buck Weaver's long distance promotion
sales group.
As
the draft inched closer and closer, I started discussing options with my then
clients. Since there was little hope that anyone in our family had the
financial means or connections to buy my way into the National Guard, or any other
escape route of the privileged, I started making a plan. I settled on the
Marines for three foolish reasons and perhaps one good one; too many John Wayne
movies, who I would discover later wasn't nearly as cavalier in a combat zone
as he was on the screen, and wouldn't make a wart on Bob Hope's backside, they
had a two year enlistment program and a ninety day delay before being inducted,
and I kept telling myself, "maybe this will be over by then." ….I
also just had some stupid mental block about being drafted.
Every
Marine has a load of boot camp stories, but we'll save those for a bar-side
chat at Mooney's sometime in the distant future. Let's fast forward past to where
I had a complimentary "Cruise ship" experience in February of '67, along
with 5,000 of my closest friends, as we crossed the Pacific on our way to
Viet Nam, with intermediate stops in Hawaii and Guam. But no shore passes for us
as we were held captive aboard the USS Gordon. And don't even waste your time
asking if I'd like to go on a cruise anytime soon other than right here on
Grand Lake.
When
we arrived a few thousand meters off the coast of Vietnam, they loaded us in
landing craft, just like the ones portrayed in Saving Private Ryan, to hit the
beach. It seemed strange; carrying our sea bags, unarmed and met on shore by
trucks taking us to our assigned units, which in some cases were many miles
away…but mine was only a few miles west of Da Nang…. Hello 11th Marines,
Headquarters Battery, First Marine Division, where I would spend a year of my
young life.
My
MOS, that be military occupational status for you non-vets, was in artillery.
Fortunately, my math was better than most, so I was trained as a fire direction
control center chart operator and surveyor, but the Marines were able to add field observer to that with little or no problem. I would spend approximately 75% of
my time in country as an observer, not to be confused with forward observers which
served with the infantry, from Observation Post Condor and Eagle to help with
data required to fire on the VC positions when they were attacking the airbase
at Da Nang. And accurate surveys were a big deal in an artillery outfit. Simply
put, if the location of the gun positions are not precisely determined, the
chances of a successful mission are at risk and the possibilities of friendly
casualties becomes a real possibility. Wherever the artillery pieces were to be
dispatched, the surveyors were there ahead of time to determine that precise
location. So, when someone asked, "Grandpa, what did you do in Vietnam?"
There's your answer.
Our
survey section was made up of some great guys, from all over these United
States, with a mean age much higher than most other sections. Most Marines were
probably in the 18-20 age bracket, but several in our crew were in their
mid-twenties, probably due to the draft and other factors. The Vietnam War was one
of the few times on record the Marines had to utilize the draft. That in itself
made us somewhat different than most units…at 22, I was one of the younger
ones.
As I went through those images, I can't help but smile and remember more about the good times than the bad and the friends who made it bearable. OP Condor was a part of a Seabee Perimeter around a rock quarry that just happened to overlook Happy Valley. We utilized that location as an observation post and I lived there for every bit of six months. Memories include Sunday afternoon horseshoe contests with the Seabees, chewing the fat with my Seabee buddy R.I. Johnson, who hailed from none-other than Yale, Oklahoma and Don Lively from Grapevine, Texas, when it was nothing but a small, rural Texas town.
New Year's Eve
celebrations featuring vodka, which had been smuggled in all the way from the
states in a hollowed out loaf of bread, obviously technology has changed a bit,
Tang for an orange drink mixer with a terrible taste and using tracer rounds
from a 60 caliber machine gun for fireworks, which the Seabee high command
didn't appreciate much.
As
my time of rotation started to approach in February of '68, intelligence
reports started to surface about a VC and North Vietnamese offensive which
might occur during the Tet New Year holiday. For most guys, I think the
greatest fear was that of being wasted after completing almost a 13-month tour
and I was no different. As the bullets associated with the Tet Offensive
started to fly, I was definitely a short-timer, there were a few scary moments,
but before long, I was headed to the Da Nang Airbase to catch a Continental
flight back to the states. A civilian flight from a combat zone still seems
strange to this day, but I did appreciate those good-looking round eyed
stewardesses.
One
of my cherished Vietnam memories occurred as that Continental flight hurtled
down the runway and was quickly approaching air speed. As we lifted from that
runway so far away, the captain keyed his mic for the following announcement:
"Gentlemen, you have just departed from the Republic of South Vietnam!"
The place went bonkers.
I've always said I'd just as soon be lucky as good and I certainly was. When I returned home, I was never disrespected because of my service in any way, shape or form. A few close calls, a little shrapnel in the backside, but not from the enemy, a scorpion sting and some life lessons, which have served me well, taught by the United States Marine Corps.
I’ve read where less than 2% of our
country’s population has served in any branch of the service…perhaps that’s the
reason so many elected politicians give little thought to writing checks that
are left to our military personnel to make good. In my opinion, there are a lot
more fake leaders than fake journalist.
But
on Veteran’s Day, which originally was intended to represent the end of the
first great war at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the
11th month, I’ll be remembering a group of guys that represented
diversity in virtually every possible way, but who were trained to pull
together in order to get the job done. So, here’s to you R.I. Johnson, Don
Lively, Brownie, Oz, Harry and James K. Saucier from Mississippi, who we dubbed
the Pope due to his bald head, I just wish we could all raise our glasses, one
more time, to some perilous days gone by and salute vets past, present and
future.
See
Ya’ Around the Pond!!
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