29 days, July 1
Some kid from Groveport came by today with the clipping out of the Dispatch with my address and his listed. He hasn’t got any letters yet though. I think his name was Gary – something from another part of 2/27 infantry.
The first sergeant came by today also and made me a guard. For the whole day, I sat in the company finance office while some clown sold money orders. My M-16 and I guarded the money – tonight I have area guard; in the rain.
The platoon is out in the field again for about 3-4 days, so I’m pretty likely to be doing some odd jobs for the First Shirt until they get back.
335 left, Let’s celebrate,
30 days (I month), July 2
I’ve been taking pictures all day using up a complete 36 exposure roll and ready for another. I’m taking everything around the area including some shots of the ducks, which should be real interesting to see. I’ll send both rolls to a place in Hawaii and then have the best 40 or so sent home. It takes anywhere from 4-7 days to send the pictures and get them back; after which I’ll pick the best ones to send. The second roll I take will be a lot of experiments in different exposures, distances, etc. and retakes of any that didn’t come out in ;the first roll. Okay so maybe I should have experimented first, but you see, I’m beginning to think like the army now.
I got another letter from the lonely hearts column in the Dispatch. Connie from Mt. Vernon, but now a 21 year old senior at Ohio State. Blue eyes, blonde hair, and 5'’1/2”tall. She majors in Spanish and minor in English, with plans to teach. She studied at the University of the Americas in Mexico City and lived with a Spanish speaking family for a year, and now lives in an apartment on 11th Ave, with three girls from Persia, New York, and Dayton. She’s taking history of education, philosophy of education, English Lit., and Spanish phonetics this summer, as well as working 25 hrs a week as a typist with the Horticulture department.
She’s got 4 sisters and an industrious father who runs a 200 acre farm and is a conductor on the Norfolk and Western Railway. She likes painting, ceramics, tennis, sewing, and guys”, not necessarily in that order! To top it off here stationery has gold engraving at the bottom. I gave her address to someone else – too much class for me.
31 days, July 3
I went to our little Vietnamese gift shop today and bought a mirror; “Believe it or not “(Ripley, 1871) it was the first time in a month I’d seen myself. Arrgh! Also the first time in a month I realized I hadn’t had a haircut in a month. So I went to our little Vietnamese barber shop and got a little Vietnamese haircut.
They did a real good job without electric tools. Only bad thing was they never heard of shaving cream; all they do is spray you with some sweet smelling stuff and hit their blade across the strap a few times and begin shaving (by this time the sweet smell-um has dried). At least they’re thoughtful enough to sharpen the blade.
Today also has been a good day for spiders. Every time I went through a door or past a tree, I was brutally attacked by a spider web. I’ve never seen such spider webs! They’re about the size of packaging string, sticky like they had been dipped in a bottle of Elmer’s. They trail out from the trees in the wind and are at least 6 or more feet long. I’d hate to see the spider! They probably use darning needles. I was one tied in a noose. I guess that spider was after a cricket or butterfly or something. One sergeant was gathering them and rolling them in a ball. I asked him ”why”; I shouldn’t have. “Oh I wrap packages with them, use them for clothes lines, they make real keen trip wires for flares.”
Caught two VC today. We gave them 40 lashes with our radio antenna and sent the poor clowns crawling down the road muttering something about “Curse the ghost of MacArthur and praise Ho Chi Minh”, and telling us how the spirit of Buddha would get revenge. They were right; I sat down on the floor today, cross-legged, and have been that way ever since.
32 days, July 4
I finally caught up on letters today. 7 in all; 5 to girls from the Dispatch lonely hearts column, one to Carol DeBell and one to Nick Ruyon [columnists]. Tonight I got one from Johnny Martin (also Dispatch columnist). He introduced himself as if I never heard of him and included several of his jokes he uses in the morning radio show, “JM in the AM, on paper”. I guess I’ll answer him although I don’t think he expects me to. He said he writes to everyone in that column. But I’ll tell him I’m from Westerville, too, and that I know Jere and Marlynn Singleton, and see what he says.
I painted numbers on the bumpers of jeeps today – with a shaving brush and stencils. Somebody discovered my true talent. Also 25 of us lifted a whole hutch onto a truck and moved it to another spot and set it down again. Don’t ask why. A hutch is the thing I drew, not the grass hutch, the other one. They’re heavy.
I wonder what letters from strangers I get tonight. I’ve been telling all of them, “My what a coincidence! I got your name and address from a Red Chinese propaganda leaflet dropped near here and now you’ve got mine from the Dispatch (an American propaganda leaflet dropped just about anywhere) before I’ve had a chance to write.” That’s if they start out by telling me where they got my address. If they start with, “We’ve never met,” or “you don’t know me” (Ray Charles, 1964) I say “Don’t think we’ve never met. One time at an OSU football game I was observing the crowd with my binoculars and I swear I saw you in the upper deck, row 24, seat 39. Was it you? You probably don’t remember.”
I figure if they’ll write back after that they can’t be all bad. One told me to take care. I said I’d be glad to take C.A.R.E. If she’d just send her dollar to the same address and stamp the envelope C.A.R.E.
Committee Arranging for the Re-enslavement of East-Asia,
Bob
[ Not pictured: he sketched fireworks at the bottom of the July 4th letter. ]
33 days, July 5
Holy stationery sales, Batman; another letter;
As usual when recon goes out in the field, they cut the power supply to my hutch so every night I read and write letters by flashlight – Holy battery sales, Batman!
About 10 o’clock last night however I had some extra light. In celebration of the Fourth of July, all the companies in the area were sending up all sorts of flares, aerial bombs, etc. It must’ve gone on for about an hour and a half. There was always at least 3 flares in the sky at one time. There were the white flares you see every night, only not so close and there were star clusters; red, green, blue, and yellow flares that burst into four or five single flares then fell almost like regular fireworks. There were all combat flares, each with a different meaning in the field, but here it meant the 4th of July.
It seemed that everyone was shooting them over our area since we are located right in the center hub, you might say, of the whole 2nd battalion. They only go up about 50 ft. and one came down still burning. They hit my hutch several times and one hit directly on top of the ammo bunker. I don’t know how it’ll turn out, but I tried f 1.8 at 1 sec. And ½ sec. for the brighter ones. It was completely dark, of course, except for the light of the flares.
I was assistant “sanitation engineer” this morning. I think I’ve already explained that once, so I’ll leave it to your memory to give you an idea of my morning duties today.
This afternoon, I was talking to another guy I’ve met who likes sports cars – at least I thought he knew a little about them. I guess I was wrong. His one dream when he gets back to the world is to buy an MG Midget, or Austin Healey Sprite, because they’re “the best buy for the money”. I told him a VW would be a better buy by far.
He then went on to say that the best sports car in the world was a Morgan, and that if he ever gets enough money, he’ll buy one, because he figures if he has a Morgan, nothing on the road can touch him. I told him a Morgan was a termite trap and that he was right – nothing under 1000 cc could come close to him, but, it he tried anything a little bigger . . .
After this he saw the Alpine picture on my foot locker lid, “Say, is this your ’57 T-Bird?”
I told him he had one minute to get out of my hutch.
On the news this evening I heard about a jetliner in Columbus landing at Don Scott Field instead of Port Columbus because of bad visibility. That must’ve been the reason something like that could have happened. The pilot’s seeing-eye dog must’ve jumped up on the dashboard so the pilot couldn’t see anything, because of the dog.
They’re playing a new song now, so I know you’ve heard it if they’re playing it here. It’s already real popular; when you hear it just think of me. It’s by the Electric Prunes and called, “Get me to the World on Time.”
Area guard duty tonight. (Groan)
34 days, July 6
After I finished yesterday’s letter, I went to the orderly room and started walking around the company area (752 steps, 10-15 min. around for 2 hours, 7-9 and 2 more, 1-3)
After one round, a rain came up – probably the hardest wind in rainstorm I’ve ever seen. I ducked into the hutch – it was raining almost as hard in there – and sat for an hour while it poured. I swear it was raining at about a 180-degree angle. I couldn’t see the tree four feet away from the hutch. The wind was blowing so hard it was pushing the rain through the canvas, which is draped over the front of the hutch. It normally leaks through the canvas because of no water proofing, but I was five feet away and getting soaked form the spray. It blew down all but 2 of the grass shelters at the big EM [Enlisted Men’s] club, and one wall of sandbags around one of the hutches. Those sandbag walls are strong enough to protect from mortar hits. One hutch lost its canvas tent roof and they haven’t found it yet, probably blew up to the DMZ by now.
The stars were out on the 1-3 shift. What’s that they say about Michigan weather? If you don’t like it, stick around, it’ll change?
This morning I took Sergeant “Rock” to the chopper pad so he could get back out to the field. The chopper was one of the big Chinooks – double-bladed job. Talk about last night’s wind! This didn’t do a bad job – blew the Rock’s bags across the pad and almost took Rock. That big thing looked ridiculous hovering 3 feet off the ground in back and about 10 feet in front, while they piled in.
I bought some suntan oil so I would quit burning like a lobster every time I’m out in the sun for five minutes. Also, a dictionary so I woodn’t messpell any wards, and so I could find out if my spelling of hutch was the right word. Everybody calls our buildings Hootches. I never could find out how that was spelled, but I remembered seeing hutch used in relation to some kind of building, when I was in junior high some place, but didn’t know how to pronounce it. I just figured that the two must go together.
It’s a poor dictionary in that it doesn’t give pronunciations – just definitions (I guess that’s better than vice-versa). “Hutch – pen or coop for small animals”. I guess it’s fitting in a way, but I think I got the wrong word. So what? How else you gonna spell it?
I guess the letters from the lonely hearts have stopped coming (the ones from home for that matter) now that they’re all answered. Some I don’t really care if they write back or not, but Brenda, Joyce, and Connie seem real nice.
There’s a rumor that replacement school starts tomorrow, but no one’s told me for sure. Fine thing! I have “Sergeant of the guard driver” tonight. I’ll be up all night listening for the phone and driving him around checking the guard posts. According to tradition, I’m supposed to have tomorrow day and night off to sleep, etc. But if the school starts, probably about 7:30, I’ll be pretty tired by tomorrow night. Getting very sleepy already, Bob
35 days, July 7
Driver of the Sgt. of the guard was bad - I got two hours sleep, which is pretty good.
I have only one complaint. The Officer of the Day come by about 11:00 and asked me to drive him around the area to check on the guards. Around the company area it wasn’t bad, but then he wanted to go out to the bunker line. The roads around here are terrible as you would imagine, holes 3 feet deep and ten feet across, filled with water across the whole road. It’s worse than Michigan. They’re bad when you’re familiar with them, but try it on one you don’t know, where the holes are, or how deep, with your lights off at 11:00 p.m. - no moon. One stretch looked more like a river but felt like the Grand Canyon in places. I don’t know for sure how I made it. I almost lost the O. D. twice, but luckily he was holding on. Why not lights? Security from Charlie out on the line – he might snipe at a pair of headlights.
I got a letter from Mom last night. She sent me 4 or 5 “stamps.” She had cut out some ads in the paper selling something “free”. She cut out the “free,” and sent them for me to use as stamps. I’d use them but she sent no glue.
That’s the trouble with Mom’s letters. They’re about an inch thick but you have to dig through all the extra clippings, etc. for an hour before you find the letter. That’s all right until she forgets to put the letter in.
I slept this morning until lunch. In doing so I missed the first day of class. Yep. School started today. NO big thing. I guess the morning session was simply a history of the 25th Division, etc.
I went this noon, and it wasn’t much better. Propaganda about the great job we do over here (I could hear the Star Spangled Banner in the wind and the sky turned red, white, and blue). The fifth grade educated instructor was actually trying to compare the Vietnam war with our Revolution. How ignorant can you get?)
I did learn that there was no such thing as the Two-step Snake (two steps after you’re bitten you’re dead). And that there are no poisonous frogs. What a disappointment!
36 days, July 8 (330 left)
Now I’m ready. School was a little better today, although it was just review. They went over all the weapons used here; function, disassemble, assemble, etc. This afternoon we went out and zeroed our sight on our M-16. Great weapon – we fired nine rounds to zero; mine jammed times!
The C. O. called me this noon after lunch. He asked me when I got into Nam, when I had basic, and A. I. T. He asked about my eyes and all kinds of other questions.
What had happened, Mom wrote a letter to Gen. Westmoreland complaining, apparently, that I had nothing to do and was wasting my time over here; that I was living with a bunch of bums and that I had bad eyes and shouldn’t be here in the first place.
I don’t know what she had in mind – I like doing nothing – it’s better than getting shot. I don’t know where she got the idea about the “bums” unless it was from the time they all got drunk. If so, I could write that part into the letter every night about everybody. I suppose it was just concern for me, but I wish she hadn’t done it. Things are bad for everyone over here, and General W. has more important things to do than read letters.
The C. O. wasn’t upset really. He just wanted to know what I had been writing home. He realized that letters could be misunderstood because of a mother’s concern. I appreciate the thought, but don’t bother other people with it – please no more letters to the
Any more like that and they might be bothered!
This also brought something to mind. DON’T print any of these letters! I never thought of it before, but what if a lot of other people get concerned and write the
Apparently you can write (or have printed) honest letters as long as they are patriotic, and pro-Vietnam. I promise you, you’ll never get anything like that from me. So they probably wouldn’t get in anyway. They are pretty touchy about things like that, apparently, and somebody reading this in the paper might get the wrong idea, like Mother did, and I’d be in a “military bind”.
Area guard tonight (joy supreme).
There was going to be another day, but 4 pages are enough.
From now on,
Anonymous
Bao Trai
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