July 26 - July 31 1967

53 days, 26 July ’67

My first chopper ride – wow! Really a lot of fun. We went to Bao Trai air strip (not the one in our front yard – the one mentioned before we went to Sugar Mill.) and waited an hour for the choppers.

The choppers came in a single file – entered from the rear of the strip and hovered about a foot off the ground as we climbed in. They shuddered and shook, and suddenly they were gone. Those things get up – it seems – almost instantly, then they lean to make a turn and you swear you’ll fall out. There’re no doors, just a big opening about the size of a garage door on each side.  The air and the noise, plus the open space makes you feel like you’re flying yourself, by yourself. You sit on a little bench, big enough for 6 people; two guys sat in the door, with their feet dangling in space; the way the slightest wind or turbulence will affect these things, slowing them down and shoving them around like feathers, I don’t see how they sit there. Worse yet, there are no seat belts on the benches either. The gunners sit in little seats, about half in and half out of the chopper – they have belts. They fly a rather tight formation, probably 30 feet apart, or so. You look out, and, if it weren’t for the unbearable noise, you could talk to the guys in the next “bird” – to the guys on the bench beside you, for that matter. Quite an experience!

They came over our landing area, and dropped from 10,000 feet to about 6 feet, as rapidly as they had clum (climbed?). Where’s my stomach? We jumped, and immediately sank to our knees in mud – right in a rice paddy. This was a real bad moment for me. The lieutenant’s radio operator was back at Cu Chi on an appointment, and I was given the 40# radio to carry on my back, the second day; bad news: I would have been all right, if it hadn’t been for the first 200 meters across the paddy to high ground. The mud was sometimes hip deep! The water was only 2 feet deep.

The first 100, I was fine, but I couldn’t make the second 100. I was stuck, waist deep in mud! Both legs were immobile. They had to come back, get the radio and help me out – to high ground. I’ve never been so tired – or so humiliated, in my life. I could hardly stand, once I got better footing, I almost collapsed right there.  I held up the whole movement about 10 minutes, and what’s worse, everybody else make it with comparatively no sweat.

Sergeant “Rock” was kinda mad, but the lieutenant was a little more human than the average army sergeant, and gave the radio to someone else. I think he realized that I’m not used to that kind of thing yet. If I had been on dry ground I could have handled the radio (I got it back later). Or if I hadn’t been carrying the radio I could’ve made it through the mud. I just hope it doesn’t happen again.

We went into the village. (I got lost for a few minutes in the bushes – more embarrassment). Actually it’s not a real village – just a large area of farm housed. That’s the way it works – acres of water and rice, surrounding little islands, where the farmers make their homes.  We searched every house we came to, and the ARVNs questioned anyone who happened to be around (I wish I had my camera). At one house we – or rather the ARVNs – found 16 mm & M-16 ammo clips – loaded, and several lengths of fuse and wire. They captured 5 VC and 4 more suspects right in this one area. These little guys really know their stuff; they found these things hidden in places we would never have thought of.

We were sitting around eating coconuts, sugarcane, bananas and pineapple, plus a few other things I couldn’t identify, and, in a general way were relaxing and having a good time – waiting for orders to move on. From out of nowhere there came some shots, real close. We all jumped behind anything available, and really didn’t know what was happening – at least I didn’t. It was an ARVN running toward a clump of bamboo. There were more shots – from the bamboo – and the ARVN disappeared in the grass. I saw him again crawling toward the clump. The VC stood up and aimed his pistol right at the ARVN (we call him Number 10) and pulled the trigger – empty, just like in the movies. Number 10 jumped up and let the VC have a full round in the head. Pretty gruesome, but that’s what happened. (Number 10 had borrowed the lieutenant’s radio man’s M-16, and had if full automatic. The 20 rounds were out before he knew what was happening.) Good thing he didn’t miss; he didn’t know how to reload the thing!

There was nothing left of the VC’s head – just a lot of blood, brains and shattered bone. (burp) Number 10 was pretty proud of himself. Quite a brave little guy. The excitement over, we settled sown to lunch again. 15 minutes later we were fired on again, from the other side of the clearing. Again the ARVNs ran right to the spot – this time we were right behind. Again Number 10 unloaded a magazine, wounding one VC and killing the second. I don’t know how these guys can find where the VC are hiding. I never saw them at all till they pulled them out of their holes.(the preceding two paragraphs are quoted in Andrew Carroll’s book, Behind the Lines.)

This time, we started back toward our pickup area. We went across the river – hard bottom, neck high water, 20 feet across, and through another barnyard. Across some more water – canals – jungle – into another barnyard. That’s the way they’re laid out – little clearing with  barnyard and sometimes house, more jungle and then another “ranch”. We found one with a corral-type fence, a separate barn for animals and a clean yard. The inside of the house had a tile floor (brick and tile) and pictures on the wall. A regular “Ponderosa” compared to the rest. This gook had money; he served us a bowl of rice with pork gravy – delicious.

We were supposed to take any men old enough to tote a gun, but this guy had an ID card saying he was straight, so we let him go. The ID cards are given to honest VC by the government so they won’t be mistaken for enemy VC. I don’t know how they determine such things. (Maybe the same way they call a truce on New Year’s.) I thought everybody out there was an enemy. Maybe they’ve been captured once and cleared. We inspected a couple more houses, and then we were shot at again. There was a slight commotion among the ARVNs and we ran over to where they were congregated. Right in the middle of the group was Number 10 with an empty, smoking M-16 at his feet, in a small foxhole, and at the bottom of the foxhole was a messed up body of a VC (Number 10’s quite a tiger). We searched a little while longer, and then were picked up by the choppers in a VN cemetery.

We had a party tonight with the ARVNs and the USs. Here, I found out, that this is the first time that the ARVNs and the USs have been integrated, so far as having both squads in a platoon. We’re called C.R.I.P. (or Operation CRIP) for Combined Recon. Intelligence Platoon. It’s an experiment aimed at eventual total integration of forces; with hopes that as soon as the ARVN are experienced enough the US can pull out. That’ll be the day.

These guys are really “cool”. I keep saying “LITTLE” – actually they’re our age, or more, but about 2 feet shorter. They look like a bunch of Boy Scouts, or dwarfs, or something. We call their lieutenant “Pee-Wee”. There’s “Number 10” of course, and some cat we call “Little Joe”, another we call “Kirby” – as “Kirby” in combat, because he carries a B.A.R. They all know the names we have given them, and they use them themselves. Only the lieutenant speaks any English, but still everybody understands everybody else pretty well, and we get along fine.

They had a ball at the party. They laughed their fool heads off at a Roger Williams record – “Do Wacka Do” (“I wish I had your happiness, and you had my do wacka do”).They’d sing then roll on the floor giggling and laughing. We put on a Ventures record and a couple of the guys got the little guys to dance (Twist, Frug, etc.) They weren’t sure what was happening, but they liked it. It’s really an interesting experience working with these guys. It’s nice to know that they know what they’re doing, too – I didn’t mention this, but they found and captured or destroyed the weapons and ammo they wanted, and they killed three VC and captured 5 others, all on their list.  Everybody they wanted, they got. One platoon did more in 8 hours than the whole battalion has done in the past week (hence the party).

It’s hard to write every day, I’ll confess. “Today” is actually 10:30 the night of the 27th. This whole letter is a remembrance of the past two days. I’ve just put down what I remembered, and what I thought of at the time these things happened. It’s rather hard to do, and not as accurate – or perhaps as interesting – as if I wrote the same day, but so far, that has not been possible. I think I’ve covered everything pretty well, though, even if it has been like something copied out of an encyclopedia, instead of my own thoughts. On the next letter . . . . I’ll see what happened today (my first firefight – shooting and shooting back for about 15 minutes) and tomorrow and probably the next day. Mailing out is no problem. I can mail from here, but incoming mail has to wait for someone to bring it out from Cu Chi. I wish we could have it sent directly here. Xin loi.

Leaving you in suspense,

 

55 days, July 27

(Written July 28 from Cu Chi

We had the same type mission today, only this time we didn’t land in knee deep mud, and everything was all right. The choppers are a ball to ride in; you feel as though you’re flying on your own power; you’re so close to the outside – I sat on the door edge with my feet dangling out like a damn fool.

Dad, tell Bill Moore at Western Electric that I’m ready to go up with him now.

Vietnam from the air looks like one of the Kansas floods, or something – that’s right, a disaster area – miles of flooded countryside, with little islands of farms or villages. I saw Cu Chi base camp. It’s really big! Like Ft. Knox in size (just the main part of Ft. Know). It’s also an island. I could see the road. I could see the road we travel on all the time, and the “pits” where we were for those first days I the field. The Gladys artillery site is on island with five gun positions arranged in a perfect star (guns at the points).

One other thing, when the choppers come in low to land, you ought to see the rhinoceroses run, dragging gooks behind them like rag dolls (sorry, I mean water buffalo).

We went into a little village area with a few more houses than the other place, but with the same mission – capture all men without ID cards, plus any weapons found. We had a photographer with us all day today, taking pictures of everything. Maybe this ARVN/US experiment is important after all. I wonder how that guy got his job. He had an arm band saying “Combat Photographer”. Wish I could get a job like that. It’s still dangerous, but is suits me better, much better.

We searched the whole village and surrounding bushes and houses, and found two land mines, 10 VC (or VC suspects) plus about 4 or 5 VC tunnels (I found one). We were all digging around, trying to find things, and the ARVN were questioning the women. Really curious isn’t it? There are plenty of women and millions of kids, but no men in sight. About every ten huts, there’d be an old man, or someone with an ID card.  You ask, “Where is Pappa San” and they say, “Pappa San go to Saigon.” You know that they don’t know where Saigon is, much less have a way to get there. Still, there’s no men in the huts or in the fields.

We were all gathered on the road getting ready to go back to the pickup point, when automatic fire come from the road. Quicker than I could know what was happening, everyone had turned, and we were assaulting the wood-line on the other side of the village. One long line of ARVNs and USs sweeping through the village, firing M-16s, M-60s, .45 pistols, l38s (privately owned – slightly illegal) M-79 grenades, ARVN B.A.R.s & .30 caliber carbines, and Thompson machineguns. A lot of fire power against one sniper. We were firing right through the village at the woods. Pans and dishes, etc., were falling off the walls and tables in the huts. (I think we got a couple of chickens and pigs.) I don’t know how the women and children weren’t hit; if they had stood up to see what was happening, I’m sure we would have hit them. The sniper must have been dug in pretty well. All that lead going in his direction, and all those M-79 grenades, and he still managed to return fire; he couldn’t get up high enough to see what he was shooting at – consequently he missed everything.

The bad part about the whole deal was we couldn’t see him either. It was about 5 minutes before I fully realized what was happening – I thought it was a whole VC company and I didn’t see how they could tell even what direction the fire was coming from. (I shot a butterfly)

We pushed on, toward the woods, and got to within about 5 yards (meters) and saw smoke coming from a bush. Every gun in the platoon opened up on that  bush; my 20 round magazine (all tracers) went directly into it – I know, how did we miss fire? We stopped firing and he didn’t fire back. We approached where he had been, but found not even a trace – only empty shells and foot prints. We searched those woods for half an hour, and never found a trace.

A firefight like that is rather frightening, especially for Charlie, I would imagine. I imagine that within 10 minutes we must have unloaded 2,000 rounds of ammo. It was a constant roar of gunfire, with the occasional burst of a grenade, and a couple of guys losing their minds, trying to find a rifle rod to unload their M-16, M-30, .45, .30, BAR ammo, plus I know of 8 grenades I heard go off. It was a constant roar of gunfire with an occasional burst of a grenade and a couple of guys losing their minds trying to find a rifle-rod to un-jam their M-16s (mine worked like a charm – it was clean!) Needless to say, the photographer went crazy – especially when a disturbed elephant (I mean, water buffalo) charged him. The fool stood there and took pictures of him coming while we threw rocks at him (the buffalo) to make him turn. We couldn’t shoot, for fear of hitting one of us.

We went out to the pickup zone finally, and loaded everybody, including the VC (captives) into the choppers. Those VC were really scared! The pilots were doing all kinds of things to scare them. If they could have flown upside down, I’m sure they would have. I don’t think the VC were any more scared that I was tho’.

This didn’t happen, but I’ve heard of people pushing VC out of the choppers because they wouldn’t talk. Interpreters especially will push out a couple \who won’t talk, to scare the others into talking. (Ow!)

The choppers dropped us in the rice paddies, and we had to walk to Bao Trai, 1000 meters across the fields. I thought that was quite rude of them. I did discover that they grow peanuts in Vietnam. They grow in the same kind of fields as the rice, and are on the roots of the peanuts like a radish or potato or something, only there are many to one plant. Also I saw a couple of women catching huge bull frogs and tearing off the legs and throwing the rest back One ate the legs raw!

56 days, 28 July ’67

We were supposed to go out after two squads of VC reported to be in the area today, but the lieutenant came in and told us to pack, we’re going to Cu Chi. I was kinda glad. It eased some of the tension. I was confused enough yesterday, with the sniper; I don’t know what I would have done against a whole squad. It’s pretty bad when someone’s shooting at you, and everybody else is shooting, a and no one really knows what they’re doing. You feel like a fool, not knowing what to do for sure, and feeling suddenly alone and forgotten.

We are going to Duc Hua and run convoys to Cu Chi for a couple of days; then back to Bao Trai and the elfish ARVN. Who knows, every time they say “4 months.” It turns out to be “4 days, now they say two days – yeah now you’ve got the idea – now it’ll be two months.

They all left at 1:00 p.m., except me and another guy. We went to a “demolition school. Why? Beats me. I guess we’ll go out tomorrow when they come in with a convoy (back to riding jeeps again!) The school was just a repeat – re-run – of what we had in replacement school. Ridiculous. I suppose now  we’re demo experts – on paper anyway.

“Home” again for awhile,

Bob

Note to Mother Hughes

Here’s your article – I forgot to send it before --, plus a cartoon from the Chattanooga Times. Vietnam & latest riots good examples? And man turning off Bad News and saying “I think I’ve found the missing link between animal and civilized man ---us”)

Tell Phil S. I thank him for the subscription to Competition Press. I’ll write him later.

57 days 29 July 67

Mot

From Duc Hoa,

I’ve sent my first two roles of film – all are quite good. There’s only one difference – now my foot locker has a picture of a Lotus Elan beside Marlynn. I guess I won’t be able to get any more pictures of the replacement school area (I’l explain later). I bought  Unsafe at Any Speed at the PX. I’ll finally be able to read it. I got about half way through it once, but my career interrupted my reading.

We’ve got a new C.O. and he’s a real dud. He’s one of these guys that likes everything by the book S.O.P. Now (all this has taken place since I was in last time) they have a police call formation at 7:00 every morning – revelry at 5:30 – we had none of this before. That got everyone in Recon pretty mad, to begin with. We left again for Bao Trai and came back yesterday. I was the only one in this morning (Demo school). Everyone else was out at Duc Hoa. They got me up at 5:30 (I promptly went back to sleep after the clown – whoever it was – left) and again at 7:00 for the formation.

Later this morning the platoon come in after running a convoy, and the C.O. came around inspecting the barracks. He was disturbed because there was live ammunition in the hutch and on the jeeps – what did he expect, blanks? Seems he wants all ammo in the bunker, “even if you’re only in for five minutes”. Also – all shoes under the bunks will be polished, there will be no clothes or equipment hung on the walls, the partitions will be torn down as they are not in the building plans, and are a hazard to escape in case of fire. The canvas at each end of the hutch to keep out the rain is, also, not in the plans – it has to go. We had to cut all the weeds along the hutch, and worst of all – the Playboy calendars had to go!

Things like this are asinine. (Sensenbrenner for mayor!). The Lt. Col. got a little angry about the whole thing and now we’re moving out of Cu Chi altogether. Bunks, trunks; everything we own will be taken with us anywhere we go. The only time we go to Cu Chi is for maintenance on the vehicles, mail, and pay day.  That’s why I probably won’t have time to get my pictures of the mines and booby traps school – too bad – they had some interesting displays.

I’m glad we’re not going to stay here any more. It was all right while I was there but all this started, I think, a couple of days after I had gone to the field.  If it had been like this before I would have gone to the school and begged for a class. The field is no fun and a lot more dangerous, but at least it makes a little sense and you’re doing something important (although it is unnecessary) and nobody goes around giving you a lot of trouble with spit shine and harassment like you get in Cu Chi nowadays (basic and AIT also). I don’t feel I’m in training now. I’ve had enough harassment in basic and AIT and I can’t take it here – I’ll take my chances with Charlie!

So now we’re in Duc Hoa (that’s the correct spelling – Doo Qua). We’ll be here supposedly fro about 3 days, running convoys to Cu Chi, then we move back to Bao Trai.

We’re in a large troop tent that looks like someone has been shooting a shotgun through the top. At least we have a wooden floor – it looks like a civil war hospital, too. One guy set up his pup tent inside the big tent to keep dry. Again, we’re right in the middle of an artillery sight and the tent leaks every time a gun goes off – even when it’s not raining. There’s a lot of mud and sandbag bunkers and gun en-placements, all crowded into one small area, and it’s quite congested. I haven’t been to the club or PX (yes, a PX) yet, but they say it’s even nicer than Bao Trai – R&R, even.

Bao Trai didn’t have a PX. As in Sugar Mill, the goodies are inside the compound, and we’re outside, but at least they’re nearby. Also, like Sugar Mill, the compound is a village occupied by gooks and Special Forces and ARVNs, surrounded by a brick wall, with us and the artillery all around (no guard for us though).

58 days, 30 July ’67

Ba

Went to the club last night. Beautiful! I’ve seen worse places back in the world. The village surrounding the compound is just a normal “seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all” village. But the compound itself is all stucco buildings with grass lawns and sidewalks. Like Bao Trai, there is a yard with palm trees and lawn chairs and umbrellas. The club has a complete bar – walnut and leather and brass, beer on tap, mixed drinks, Cokes, etc. You can get sandwiches ranging from a hamburger to tuna fish. There are slot machines, soft chairs, air conditioning, and stereo music. It’s about like Bao Trai, only a little more plush and complete. I hope the pictures I took come out, so you’ll believe it. They have Vietnamese girls waiting tables and working behind the bar. Just like downtown.

Remember I said that our tent looked like someone had been shooting a shotgun through the roof? It rained last night and the tent hot only leaks at the 4,125 B.B. sized holes, but every place else; there’s no waterproofing; might as well sleep under a mosquito net. Remember, also, I laughed at the guy who had a tent inside the tent? Last night there were two – his and mine. There is a 3 foot-high wall of sandbags around the inside of the tent. I put 2 corners of my poncho under the top layer of bags, and tied the other ends to the center tent poles. I had a section of pup tent pole in each of my boots, and used them to support the sides.

Wonderful! No rain, no leaks. I was just about asleep when the tent fell in – not mine, the whole tent. First I thought it was just my poncho caving in, then another rope pulled out and one of the main tent poles fell across my forehead, and all the water which was being stored in the dip in my poncho gave me a midnight bath. Now the whole heavy tent was down on top of everybody. It took us an hour to set it up again – 12:30-1:30. I guess the ropes were too tight and shrunk, pulling the stakes out of the mushy mud.

By the time it was put back up, I had to go pull an hour’s guard on the jeeps. I think I managed about 3 hours sleep all night, and not a dry moment.

We had a bit of bad news this morning. Last night the ARVNs (just pronounce it “Arvin”, as in the electric fan brand) were out on an ambush patrol and got hit by two platoons of VC. They killed about 5 VC and captured quite a few. But the American advisor, Capt. Barkman, was wounded slightly, and the ARVN lieutenant, the one we called Pee Wee, was killed.

If we hadn’t been here in Duc How for these two days, we would have been out there with them. My reaction to it was mixed; shock and relief that we weren’t there. I guess you don’t think like that though. Everybody else is screaming for blood. They feel that they should’ve been there where they were supposed to be, and where they would have done some good instead of sitting here doing nothing. Because the battalion HQ doesn’t know what they’re doing and keeps moving us around.

I can see their point. If we had been there with our superior fire power, it might have been a different story and we could have saved Pee Wee’s life. Of course, it could have been one of us, but like I say, you’re not supposed to think like that over here. We would have doubled their size in number and tripled their fire power – VC wouldn’t have much of a chance. It’s a shame. Maybe this is an example of the great morale you hear about over here.

We took choppers back to Cu Chi today for supplies. Every time I get inside one of those things, they’re more fun. This wasn’t one of the big UHBs; it was the little bubble cockpit deals – aviation’s answer to the sports car.

I guess the lieutenant’s serious about leaving the Cu Chi camp for good. At least until we receive a direct order to come back. We took everything out of the hutches – they’re bare now – and took it out to the field. Now we’ll never have to come in to pick something up, or to spend the night. And they can’t bother us with their little games they like to play while we’re in – police calls, putting guys on guard, and KP, even if they’re in for only one day – yech!

It’ll be a true rat patrol now. Even the division commander calls us the “rat pack” (from the TV show “Rat Patrol”). We have jeeps and do about the same type of work as TV’s Rat Patrol does. It’s getting to be a unit something like a McHale’s Navy, only a little more serious. Nobody wears the same uniform, etc.

I don’t know what will happen later this noon or tonight, so I’ll stop here and add the rest later. I’m writing early ‘cause I might not have the time or the light later on.

Nam

Nothing went on all day. The lieutenant went to Bao Trai to find out a little more about last night. The story now is that the platoon was out on an ambush patrol, and on the way to their planned ambush sight, they were ambushed by two platoons of VC. Their lieutenant was killed as they were withdrawing.

It’s really sad around here. The whole atmosphere reminds me of the time President Kennedy was assassinated. Nobody can really believe it happened. We were only associated with Pee Wee and his platoon for a few days, but he left quite an impression on everybody. They’re planning a full military funeral. If they have it in Bao Trai, our whole platoon will go. If they have it in Saigon, his birthplace and home, only the Lt. Col. will go.

No word on when we go back to Bao Trai or if we will at all, after this. One death usually doesn’t interfere with the war, but in such a specialized operation as this was, and with the ARVN lieutenant dead, and the American Advisor wounded, it might slow thing sown for quite a while. Pee Wee was the backbone of the whole 5-2 platoon. (Actually his name wounded like “Kiwi Loom”, although I have no idea how they would spell it. We just called him Pee Wee; S-2 is a short code name for the ARVN recon platoon.).

Since my old camera is broken and can’t be sent, I was going to buy an inexpensive ($30-$40) one on payday, but the guy I borrowed the camera I’m using now has offered to sell it to me for $20. He got it for $30, original PX price is $43 – US price is probably about $65. It works fine and has hardly been used, so I think I’ll get it and save about $20. Only thing wrong is no lens cover, but don’t sweat the small stuff. Just to satisfy curiosity, it’s a Petri 7-S; 2.8 f., 45 mm lens. Big deal!

In Mourning,

Bob

PS Hey Marlynn! For the first time in three issues your picture wasn’t in the P.O. Let’s get on the ball over there. 

 

59 days, 31 July ’67

Last night we had some ARVNs come to our tent trying to sell or buy most anything. The guy I was going to buy that camera from sold it to some clown for $45. Another guy sold a radio he bought used for $5, for $30. These were more typical ARVNs, unlike our S-2 boys, they’re kinda dumb and greedy – actually they’re pretty foolish.

One of the ARVNs could speak pretty good English and I had quite a conversation with him, trying to learn a little Vietnamese pronunciation. I especially wanted to find out how to say things like “banana” and “pineapple” so I could ask for them when we’re out in the jungle and the ARVNs are gathering lunch. The pineapple is delicious wild, and the bananas are only about 3 inches long but about the same thickness as ours, and are real sweet.

There are three 155mm guns about 50 meters outside our tent. They’re mounted on what looks like a tank – actually they’re just self-propelled guns. When they fire, the whole thing raises about 2 feet off the ground. I guess I should be used to this by now, but these are closer than any before – and bigger. When they shoot, it lifts you right off the bed. Today they fired a 4 round volley, and the sandbag will around our tent collapsed. Fine mortar protection!

Hooray! Today was payday. For some reason I got $343. I should have gotten $182. There’s an item on the voucher entitling me to $161, but no one knows what it means. I’ll probably find out when I only get $10 next month. Oh well, I sent $250 home and bought a camera and kept the rest. That $250 is a good start on my Lotus Elan fund.

A little excitement on the way back to Duc Hoa from Cu Chi. It was quite windy and rainy (whitecaps on the rice paddies). We were doing about 50 mph as usual; bouncing over the bumps and holes, holding on for dear life, when of the jeeps caught a hole wrong and flipped on its top in a paddy. Everyone was thrown clear, but the driver broke his hand and another guy scraped his arm pretty bad on the gravel there. Probably the only graveled section of the road in VN! The front fender of the jeep was pretty well crumpled. Think you can handle it, Jere? The machine gun mount served as a great roll bar, only it wasn’t too good on the machine gun. The jeep was propped up on the mount and the gun was completely buried under the muck.

When we got back, they had some VC prisoners locked up in a little chicken-wire cage. Sorry bunch of gooks, all dirty and worn out. One had a big gash on his shoulder and another had been shot in the chest, but was it appeared, in fairly good health. They just sat there like a couple of morons – didn’t even blink. They had a carton of C-rations in there for them, but they weren’t opened. Probably forgot the can opener. That’s pretty rough on prisoners – especially wounded ones; throwing them in a cage then giving them C-rations – insult to injury? Maybe it was humane, after all – leaving out the can opener.