A good fiend, a shooting buddy, there are three of us who meet for dinner once a week, done so for several years, gave me a book to read. He is another vet. "Walk in My Combat Boots", by Patterson and Eversman, 2021. About 40+ short accounts of male and female military, relating their wartime experiences, some RVN, mostly the later wars. The writers talk about their experiences, but what is most poignant is how their military experiences "changed them". Not always for the better.

Reading their accounts, I again reflected on my own life changing experiences. Perhaps at some point in our lives, we make the "leap" to becoming finally complete, or just grow up and become a Man, or Woman; in other words, we finally become who we are.

Maybe some people never really find who they really are. Others, at a young age. My dad's dad died in an accident in 1923, and just before he died, he told my then six year old father that he would have to take care of his widow, as he could not do it. Tough times, and my dad had to "become a man" at about age 6.

I was never an athlete, was never on any HS sports teams, so had no leadership or competition roles in my youth. But I was married and a father in my sophomore year at Nebraska, and when I started my Active Duty the day I graduated, I did my best to be committed to my responsibilities as a new 2nd LT, first to Germany where I was a Mech Platoon Leader. But thinking back, I wasn't yet complete.

As a CPT, I was posted to Vietnam, finding out just before I walked out to board the jet taking me to that war that my wife, totally unknown to me, was in an affair with an Army Doctor, and she was going to have no contact with me. Somehow, some sort of survival mode "kicked in", because if I didn't totally put this out of my mind, I was not going to come back from this war. I only dealt with this long years later.

So when I came back, 366 days later (1972 was a leap year, hence the extra day), I began the long process of a new and different career.

But when I returned, to the 5th SF Group as an A Team leader for 18 months, I was absolutely committed to whatever was the task.

I had to take a year and a half of the necessary science courses at Nebraska to meet the requirements for an application to Medical School.

And it was then that the ability to have a relentless, focused approach to my studies, coupled with the other trait I had subconsciously developed during my year as an Advisor, the ability to make myself do anything, was so essential. I felt that if I studied harder than any other applicant, I would do better than every one of them. It worked. When other students would comment that they needed a break, or just couldn't study any more I just hit the books even more. I excluded all social life, even walking away from several relationships, partly because of my searing prior experience with abandonment, and because I had no room left for any distractions from my goal.

I vividly recall standing in line in the bookstore, and overhearing two guys in front of me, one saying he was going to be a doctor, but "farted out" and that choice was long gone. I silently told myself, "I gave up an army career for this chance, and no way I will let it escape." There is a trite saying "...I can do it", but for me it was "...I will do it, no matter what."

So, for me, my year in a war finally matured me into what I was to be. Perhaps if I had worked in a sawmill, or been a park ranger, it would have been the same. All I know is that in my year in Vietnam I finally grew up. So many soldiers come back from wars wounded in body and spirit. But for me, I am grateful for that year.

If you read the book, you too will realize how some wartime experiences forever change us. It did for me.

Here, I posted this Pic some time ago, but I spent a year like this, and came out complete.

All the best... an Stay Safe.... SF VET
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SF VET, Hal..... spent the past two days reading this thread. First. Thank You For Your Service. Second, I am quite surprised that you spent this much time talking about your service in VN. But your most recent post above really explains why you are more vocal than some of my friends.
To the rest of you Vets, Thank You For Your Service. I have enjoyed reading all your responses and stories. I will be back to track this thread!

I am sure invading or occupying armies have left their DNA in the native populations for thousands of years. I was rarely to any regular army bases. Once, to Long Binh, I can't recall why, but it was dusty and huge; perhaps was a PX run or was just hitchhiking to somewhere, and stopped briefly. The MACV compound in Saigon was just a small part of the US base there, just an inprocessing and out processing station, a few barracks, a sewing shop, armory, and a swimming pool. I never got near the MACV HQ, I am not sure even where it was. No place for just a Captain.

I did visit other advisory compounds, was probably just passing thru. My own small province compounds, both in Kien Phong, and later Cau Man, were tidy and clean, but some others had massage parlors and steam rooms right inside the US compounds. I think it must have been a complex decision for the commander to allow or even perhaps sponsor such "houses of ill repute". Was it better to have some supervision and troop safety "inside the wire", or see the local "houses' just outside the gates, where things were likely less safe?

By the time I was In Country, the morale and esprit de corps of the American force was about as low as it would become. I think it was an insidious thing, from which the military took years to recover. I suspect even now, if troops want to find it in garrison cities, they know where to go.

Here, I was flying somewhere to or from the main airfield at Can Tho, the capital of the Delta, and saw this little hut at one of the gates. I don't really know what liaisons transpired there. Maybe I am naive to think that soldiers really did have Vietnamese wives and honorable relationships with local women. Some behaviors really are out of commander's control.

But I think this little hut was a sign of the pervasive demoralization of our military. Not something wives and girlfriends back stateside would have wanted to know about.

All the best, and stay safe. SF VET
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Each base in Korea had a "Ville" just outside the gate where the prurient interests of GIs could be met. Many guys engaged in sordid behavior with the justification that they would clean up their act once they were "back in the world". As my Dad told me "character is what you are when no one is watching."

__________________
Only a cold warrior

Here, a picture of one of the riverside hamlet food stalls, in the small hamlet a few hundred yards from my compound, the second one I was at in my year "in-country." Maybe a half dozen of these right at the river's edge. No dock or warf, boats just pulled up onto the river's muddy bank. I don't think I snacked at these much. The shop keepers would just rinse their pots and dishes in the river, or in plastic buckets filled with muddy water. If I were to travel to 3d world countries now, I would hopefully never have to dine at these establishments.

I never saw a chubby Vietnamese away from the cities. Likely there was never an abundance of food for anyone, even for us US troops. No Big Gulps, no 42 oz soda drinks, no triple baconburgers.

They looked healthy, and clean, despite the mud and muck. And no doubt were thoroughly infested with worms and other nutrition-sucking parasites. I suspect a person's intestines eventually come to a mutually tolerant relationship.

A few years ago, read a medical article, about how Vietnam vets were dying from a form of pancreatic duct cancer, due to exposure to liver flukes from river and paddy water long ago. So I arranged for a liver ultrasound, then a CT, and I am clear of that disease.

As I said, I usually had a Ramen lunch at the small cafe inside my compound. Really not different than the local ones down by the river, but I had gotten to know the young girls who were the cooks and waitresses. The only "illness" I had, was a depigmenting sort of fungal disease, of the Tinea Verisicolor variety, and just used a Selsun sort of shampoo on my back and it resolved.

One day, after shooting a lot of 105mm interdiction out into Indian Country, a father showed up with his young son, whose head was wrapped in pus-filled bandages, totally adherent to the poor lad's skull. Not something I could deal with, so he was packed off to Camau, to the local hospital, and it must have been an awful experience removing his dirty wraps, and I am sure if he is alive now, he has no hair on his head. The same day, another father brought in his son, and one of our rounds had blown off one of the boy's feet. I didn't have any input to these firings, they were probably just random fire missions, without any thought that perhaps some locals would be out there just trying to eke out some sort of existence.

Today is Pear Harbor Day. When I was a kid in the early and mid 50's on Oahu, my dad being a naval aviator, sometimes would have a navy launch take us out to the Arizona. We could clamber around the small above water wreckage, just a short flag pole and a small bass plaque, with the oil sheen on the water. It was not a shrine until the late '50's.

The price for unpreparedness.

All the best... SF VET
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SF Vet, you lived in some of the better places and not so comfortable places. The Air Force had the Ritz and we had Motel 6. Pictured are some of the hootches in the area. Capt Israel was a Corporal who decided that if there was a Capt America the should be a Capt Israel. He painted Captain bars on his ear muffs with Capt Israel around them. He actually got saluted from the new guys. He was also a plane captain and the pilots didn't say anything. He got away with it.

Since we have made it to December, in Vietnam it was Bob Hope time. My first Christmas in the Far East, I missed Bob. The Christmas of '67 he came to Chu Lai. We waited for the girls.

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sometimes the different rank "names" in the services could work to one's advantage. In '73, took my A Team to Turkey via Rota, Spain, the big US naval base on the Atlantic coast. We were there for a day or so, and I was an army Captain on a navy installation where a US navy Captain was a Big Cheese. The equivalent in the US navy to my 03 rank was Lieutenant.

So when I called the navy cab center, I told them I needed three cabs for a local transport. I was Captain Copple. When the three cabs would show up looking for the navy 06, and we climbed into the cabs, the drivers were in a bit of consternation. It worked fine for several days; I suspect if we had stayed there a few more days, they would have figured out our con game.

When the Arab-Isralie war broke out a few weeks later, that little deployment turned out to be a big event for me.

In '72, when I would drive up to the DC area from my post at Bragg to see my son, then with his mother and her new husband, I would change into my fatigues, blouse my boots, and snug my green beret down just right, and walk into the BOQ at Andrews AFB, just out of DC.

Right at the desk, over the AF reservation clerk was a big sign: "Absolutely no rooms unless on official orders."

But I just looked the timid clerk in the eye and told him I would have a room. It always worked fine. Perhaps the AF airman thought that Green Berets were not to be trifled with.

Just adventures of long ago.

All the best, and say safe. SF VET

In field operations we usually wore no rank insignia on the uniforms. Occasionally had an opportunity to spend a few hours in Da Nang around I Corps Headquarters, and we figured out pretty quickly that the Officers Club and Senior NCO club (top 3-stripers only) were far superior to the junior NCO club or Enlisted Mens Club.

We became a total bunch of hooligans at times, complete with nasty field uniforms, personal equipment, and weapons. I remember a few times with pin-on rank insignia of officers a few guys might terrorize a totally civilized environment occupied by starched and pressed staff officers until someone politely suggested that we go somewhere else (sometimes insisting in a rather rude display of superior being, as I recall).

Personally, I was only a casual observer of such things, never an active participant to the best of my current recollection. I don't clearly recall why I was even there, much less any of the events described by others after all the yelling was over and done with.

Oh, to be nine feet tall, 19 years old, and bullet-proof! If we got into a little trouble what was the worst they could do? Send us to Vietnam? Bend our dog tags?

I have vague recollections of an especially nice M151 jeep, looked brand new, sparkling clean and polished up, parked outside a nice officers club with no one around, full tank of gas. I don't think it was my idea, but it wasn't a bad idea at the time.

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Life of the party until 8:00PM

Yep, the US Navy rank and rate “names” are unique (based off the RN system). The confusion does work in reverse of your experience. Calling in at an Army or AF BOQ, a Navy Captain (06) needs to remember to identify themselves as “Captain Smith, USN (OR NAVY)” if they want the upgraded accommodations. Same confusion can happen at multi service meeting with senior Navy officers or enlisted being grouped with juniors from other services. (Oh, the indignities of it!! ) Navy Lieutenant or Lieutenant Commanders seen to confuse folks as well. Not so much a Navy “Commander” (equivalent to an Army/AF LtCol (05)). Marines use the same Army/AF rank/rate identifier and pay grades. They never seem to have the confusion over ranks and rates, but then again, they are Marines (God love them).

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"Your other right........."

I grew up around naval aviation, my dad left the USS Langley with his brother before WWII for flight school, that ship later sunk with heavy loss of life in the Java sea; it wasn't until the early '50's when research of Japanese records revealed what had happened to several of the escorting destroyers.

Anyway, I grew up intending to be a Naval Aviator like my dad, finding out when I took my college ROTC physical that I am color blind, hence my army career. When I was a kid, naval aviators could take their families up in navy planes with them, that ceasing after some tragic aircraft accidents. My dad flew a lot of WWII PBY patrols, and instructed marine students on B25's. plus Hudsons and Ventura's, and TBM's, F6f's and so forth. If this was a military aircraft forum, I could relate my dad's stories, crashes, missing aircraft, important missions, U boats and so forth.

So whenever I saw some vintage military plane somewhere I would try to take a pic of it, and by now have a nice collection of photos. Even once climbed up into the parked P2V Truculent Turtle, which held the record for the longest non-stop flight, from Australia to Ohio in the the early '50's. Oh, once my dad did a firing run on an iceberg, and some of the 20mms came back and wounded his top turret gunner.

Here, a pic at Can Tho airfield; this the capital of the Delta. The front plane is a C7 Caribou, designed and used for near VTOL operations at remote SF compounds. Then behind is a C123 Provider. I have parachuted from both of these in my army career. C123's were part of the Reagan era Iran-Contra affair. Once, in a 123 in Vietnam, just as we climbed out from the takeoff, there was a Big Bang, and one of the two engines blew up, but the pilot brought it back around for a safe landing. I needed a beer after that little episode.

Sometimes, when I would go someplace by Air America, the CIA airline, since I had taken a private pilot's course in ROTC, the pilot would let me fly the plane to wherever we were going, just reminding me to wake him up when got there.

So, here is a pic for the Fly Boys here.

All the best, and stay safe. SF VET
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The past near two years have been a trial for all of us. Now, not like it was early in WWII, nor in the desperate years of the Depression, or in other challenging times, but still, with the Covid and other social upheavals, it has been a rough year.

Sitting here, smoking some ribs on the grill my wife just got me for Christmas, soon off to church for a late service, I was just reflecting on how I hope the coming year is "better" , whatever that might mean for each of us, and for this troubled Country.

so thought I would post a pic of an airplane, which has seen better days, and yet, sits ready for a rejuvenation, and a time to soar and take to the air again.

I lost my Vietnam Vet hat, but fortunately, was able to source a replacement. Maybe a good sign for me.

I am reminded of the words of a judge at the conclusion of a trial of one of the Sept 11 terrorists. "....we have been thru the fire before... and we will get thru this one likewise."

So, all the best, SF VET
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Merry Christmas Hal....and to all the other Vets on here.
Thank You For Your Service.

Re. post 661.

That is certainly going to be a ground up restoration. Stearman? (Even though the landing gear doesn't look just right.) My only experience with a Stearman was when I came face to face with one on the base leg at my home right hand pattern airport and the visiting Stearman pilot hadn't done his homework beforehand.

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Only a cold warrior

No, I don’t think it’s a Stearman. The landing gear is wrong, and the fuselage also doesn’t look right to me. Doesn’t look like a AgCat to me either. Maybe a WACO? Regardless, it’s nothing $100,000 dollars won’t fix.

I figured it out, it’s an N3N, the original “Yellow Peril”. Built at the Naval Aircraft Factory in Philadelphia.

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Wheel guns are real guns.

Hopefully, someone made this bi-wing flyable again. I shot the pic on Agfachrome about 1973, hence it is a bit faded. If it is a Yellow Pearl it was what my dad leaned to fly at Pensacola in the late '30's. He flew a bit over 12,000 hours in WWII, and more in the next 25 years. Very few of his flight class survived the war. Very few...

ribs were good, going to try some beef ribs tomorrow. Plus, finish up making some nice 270 Winchester rounds, for my new pre-64 model 70.

Need to find why my '52 army truck's carb is not right. Coming off the engine tomorrow.

All the best, and stay safe.... SF VET

Been away for awhile, and wife took back control of the family craft room for her quilting, so had to move my scanner and projector to one of the kid's bedrooms. But have been well.

anyway, visited Chau Doc, a Riverine base on the way south coast, although as far as I could see, it had been turned over to the Vietnamese by the time I was there. As usual, the only way to get anywhere deep in the Delta was by hitching a ride on a chopper going hither and yon. I wouldn't have had any official business at Chau Doc, just wandered around while the US chopper crew dropped off whatever their resupply was.

Here, lots of PBR's, the so called, "Brown Water Navy". There were variations of these jet boats, but all were pretty heavily armed. I think their hulls were some sort of foam or the like. One of my prior college fraternity brothers was awarded the MOH for his action as CO of a PBR. Later gov of Nebraska. Dated Debra Winger, which in my eye is right up there with our nation's highest award for Valor. Remember her love scenes with Richard Gere in "Officer and a Gentleman."

In my own experience, being an Officer and a Gentleman were often often mutually exclusive. In the UCMJ, article 136 was "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer", the catch-all charge for whatever else didn't fit in another article. In war zones, "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer" was a pretty low bar, in my opinion.

Anyway, I am back now, and will see whatever I can find which might be interesting. I have been busy reloading a lot of rifle and pistol ammo, need to get back to the range.

All the best, guys, SF VET
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Good to see you SF VET...keep 'em coming!

Often it was better not to be a "gentleman by act of Congress" even if the paygrade was lower. Less pressure.

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Only a cold warrior

Welcome back SFVet was wondering if all was ok. Looking forward to additional interesting thoughts regarding your life experiences.

Happy New Year, Shipmate, and good to see you back in fine form.

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"Your other right........."

It is sometimes said than our military is a reflection of our
American society. But knowing some officers and troops in my own experience, I have to wonder if putting on a uniform somehow tweaks the weird just a little to the abnormal. I will relate some of these individuals from time to time.

When I was back to Bragg, after my SEA tour, I lived for a year in a two story BOQ, by the traffic circle that used to have the statue of Iron Mike. Another captain lived on the floor above me. Once I was washing my VW in the parking lot, and he came out in the morning, and in our chat, asked me what I thought of the big Lincoln he was using. I thought it a bit "pimped out", but only commented that I liked the color. He then told me it was his wife's boyfriend's, and he was just using it for awhile .

Another time, he invited me up to his quarters for a party. He was planning to write a book on the SKS, and had about 40 variations in his room. I left after awhile, and in the morning, he came down and told me, he being pretty hung over, that the girl he had picked up downtown had stolen his gold dog tags and his wallet, and he had no idea what her name was, or where she had gone. I offered my condolences. He was in the 82nd.

Sometimes I wonder what became of some of the officers I met in my own active army years.

Or the captain pilot, onto whom I had pawned off two Canadian bar girls, who gave him the clap. He at first blamed me, but I told him I had nothing to do with his affliction and he just needed to get a shot for his "non-specific urethritis", then term used when an officer picked up a "social disease."

Next, the Chieu Hoi project.

Stay safe, and all the best... SF VET

Are you talking about Kerry? He was the first Navy SEAL to be awarded the MOH. I grew up in SW Nebraska.

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BCCI Life Member #2068

Yes, Bob Kerry, he was the chapter president of my fraternity when I pledged in '65, coming out from Northern Virginia. Out of the five colleges I applied to, only NU accepted me, and that only because technically, they had to. I was apparently not thought to be a good candidate for higher education. Bob's younger brother was in my class. I was back at a party one nite, years later, and his brother was there, and picked up the phone and was told Bob had been wounded. He lost a foot in that action.

My wife is from Fairbury. I grew up as a Navy dependent, so only lived in NE as a toddler, and when I was back as a college student. Since I never "had" a home state, growing up all over the world, long ago I sort of adopted Nebraska, or maybe Nebraska adopted me and I consider that great state my Home. We get back pretty often, wife's family still in the Fairbury area. I went back to Lincoln in '73 for pre-med classes for 18 months. Then to the med school in Omaha. Met my wife on a blind date in Lincoln. I was 7 years between marriages. In retrospect, I needed those 7 years. One thing I learned in my army years was the ability to have a razor sharp focus and a relentless dedication to what I needed to do to accomplish something important.

Loaded up another 500 rounds of 9mm this AM. One of our club's shooting buddies has a memorial service this afternoon. He was a great guy. For a decade three of us would meet for some sort of dinner every Tuesday. The Three Amigos, we called ourselves. Now only the Two Amigos.

Had an inch of snow last nite, so of course my SC area is completely shut down.

All the best, SF VET

In my own experience, being an Officer and a Gentleman were often often mutually exclusive. In the UCMJ, article 136 was "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer", the catch-all charge for whatever else didn't fit in another article. In war zones, "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer" was a pretty low bar, in my opinion.

I remember being in a mess hall in RVN and hearing a major rant and scream that he was going to court martial whichever one of us who took the catsup off the Senior Officer's table.

This was back at Bien Hoa 101st Abn 1968.

I wonder if he retired at Flag rank.

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Paul
Salome, AZ

In my almost thirty years of active and reserve duty, I’ve known some **** head types and some great folks. I may have been fortunate in that I’ve known more of the latter then the former.

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"Your other right........."

It didn't take long to see the difference when a superior officer was protecting and furthering his career, and when another Commander was just making the right and sometimes difficult command decisions necessary for the unit's mission, and trying to protect his troops from unnecessary risks or discomforts.

Nite and day difference in my own military years. On the other hand, I can't recall ever seeing an NCO be very concerned with protecting their advancement; they were always trying their best to meld mission needs with "taking care of their men."

SF VET

Ever since armies have fought, it has always been a goal of the warring parties to convince their opponent to run away, or surrender, or perhaps just get out of the way. The best result was if a former enemy could be somehow convinced to join one's own effort. Combat has usually been a last resort, unless one fights like Genghis Khan, who much preferred to slaughter his enemies. Or sadly, like our own military excursions against the Indian tribes in our own West.

In Vietnam, there was a program dedicated to just such a purpose, getting the VC and perhaps even a disillusioned NVA to "come over." It was the Chiu Hoy program, or something pronounced like that. Sort of like a modern Tokyo Rose attempt, "... why live in the jungle when you can have a life of relative peace and luxury, and even women." I recall leaflet drops, and here is a poster on a wall in a village, recounting the misunderstanding of some local villager, who finally saw the light, so to speak, and now has the correct vision of his role in the conflict. Note he has a Garand slung over his shoulder. I can't read the language, but the pictures say it all.

I suspect he later had a bad experience when the South Vietnamese army collapsed. Of course, it worked both ways. One of my district's small detachment of troops, guarding some small bridge or hamlet, one day, just took their weapons and "went over".

When my own compound's Vietnamese troops captured a turncoat, he was put in the wire cage until an operation was mounted, and said traitor was taken along, and always tried to escape, with the expected outcome. I made sure I wasn't there when that was going to happen. I didn't see it, and didn't know anything about it.

In US slang, I often heard the phrase "Chiu Hoy" in reference to any minor project that was "...heck, I give up on this".

So all the best, and stay safe. Family still asleep, and now another coffee sitting by the fire. Then off to Church and lunch with our Charlotte daughter, who just ran a 5K, a 10K, a half marathon and then on the fourth day a full marathon at Disney. Me, I slowly walk out to check the mail at the end of the driveway.

Oh, I found my M37's truck problem wasn't the carb, it was a failing fuel pump. All good now.

SF VET
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Chu Hoi. As a helicopter pilot in Central Highlands I wore a 2” barrel model 10 in an upside down shoulder holster. Also carried issue 4” and on many occasions had a CAR 15. Our unit had access to myriad small arms because we supported CCC (FOB2).

Funny story. In Saigon to procure a mule and was in a bar. Bar owner sent one of her girls over to entice me and as she is stroking my chest she feels the butt of the pistol in the shoulder holster. Her reaction is to scream CID and the 20 plus patrons immediately evacuated the bar. Bar owner was pissed. Got a free drink and invitation to leave immediately.��

I’ve always believed that there are basically two types of individuals within any given military community regardless of the specific branch, that being career military and professional military.

Both have their place however, in a peace time setting I’ve found the former to be more prevalent than the later regardless of rank. I recall a family member who was an Army Major during the first Gulf War telling me about the number of higher ranking officers including generals who, after decades of peace time active duty, immediately started putting in for retirement once things started to kick off in Iraq.

Those were the “career” types who were only looking out for themselves. The “professional “ simply got down to the business of war. I’ve always felt that to serve was an honor and to serve with honor was ones duty.

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BCCI Life Member #2068

I’d have given you two “Likes” if I could for your last sentence alone.

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"Your other right........."

I won't share details, in order to protect the innocent, but I was privileged to meet a real gentleman when I was serving. We got to be pretty good friends, and I would often host him for lunch at the NCO Club since the O club on that base was pretty poor in his estimation.

He was a 1st Lt. at the time, and his goal was to finish out his ROTC commitment and then get out. My goal was to stay in until retirement.

Things don't always work out like you expect. I refused re-enlistment, and got out to attend seminary. He stayed in, and retired as a Major General.

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Only a cold warrior

When soldiers, or other military have come "home" from their deployments or their wars, I am sure since time immortal, they returned to joyous welcoming, or perhaps something less; maybe disgrace, or despair, or loss of everything. Maybe wounded in body and spirit. And sometimes, they came back with "baggage."

When I was back to Nebraska after I left active duty to begin some sort of medical career, I met a Vet who had had both arms blown off. To this day, I hope wherever he is, that somehow medicine found some way to give him back at least some use of his upper body muscles and nerves.

For me, as I have mentioned my first wife told me just before I flew away that she was gone for ever. I never took an in-country or out of country R&R, preferring to spend my 366 days out. While I was away, my "wife" sold or discarded everything of mine. I had no civilian clothes in Vietnam, not so much as a white handkerchief. I had one set of Khaki's, and flew back LA International wearing them, with my small gym bag. Had a captured ChiCom type 53 carbine with the folding bayonet. In a few hours, was on my way to Lincoln, where my mom and dad welcomed me.

This being a firearm form, I stepped into the bedroom I had used as a child in that home, and took down my Ruger 1022, which I had bought in '65, and left on that rack 3 years before. Of course, I checked the action, and was stunned to have a live 22 round flip out! All those years, somehow, that little rifle had been loaded and ready to fire. Somehow, I had left it loaded when I put in on that rack.

The next morning I fired up my VW Squareback and by the next afternoon reported in to the JFK center. I had no civilian clothes, so immediately went to a mens store, and told the salesperson I needed some clothes. He agreed, and put me in bell bottom pants, a belt with a big buckle, a polyester shirt with wide collars, (which I couldn't keep buttoned) and buckle high top shoes. I had been away for years, but he assured me it was what men were wearing now.

In a few days, I drove up to near Blacksburg, VA, to see my sister, who upon seeing me said "are you a dude now." I looked like Sony Bono. I soon realized I looked like some wanna-be, and discarded all that, and got some slacks and jeans and resumed any new life.

I dove into my new career as an A Team Co, and left all my past behind me.

I soon found the "rules" of dating were very different than when I had last "dated" 8 years before. Very different.

So how was it for you guys when you came back from your deployments?

Stay safe, SF VET

Coming home was different for many of us. My time in RVN was not as bad as some and worse then others. After TET things got a bit more exciting. As I've told people my time in was more of being shot at and missed and **** on and hit. The Marine Corps was a means to an end. In early '65 they reinstated the GI Bill. It meant that I could do more for myself.

I really liked most of my time in the Corps and wouldn't have changed a thing. But I could not put up with the chicken ****. Junk on the bunk was silly to me. Having to run a PRT in Vietnam was the most ridiculous thing that came up, let alone someone complaining that our brass buckles were not shined. We complained and didn't run the PRT. Smarter heads were thinking. Raking the sand every Friday morning was the pits. I realize that discipline was required to keep people somewhat motivated but it seemed comical at times. The men in our squadron were dedicated to keeping our planes flying and safe. We wanted the pilots to return after a sortie. That's what we did twenty four hours a day.

Leaving the RVN and waiting in the holding area at DaNang, word came over AF radio that RFK was killed and with MLK killed in April, we were wondering what was happening back home. After a couple of days in Okinawa, we were headed to California. The greeting at San Bernadino was a cluster. Finally arriving at LAX the tone was not much better. There was a feeling of hostility. I had already sent a letter to my parents telling them there was not to be a party or welcoming home celebration.

I only had seven months left when I got back and made plans to go back to school. That's what I did. Did the Corps make me a better person? I think it did and will be grateful for what the Corps gave me.

When I got back from my first overseas deployment, I got a beautiful little daughter - nine months later……

….and when I returned from my last serious deployment, DS/DS, there were airport greeting team of folks to welcome us home, there were parades, there was …….. too much…..

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"Your other right........."

Yep, big difference

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Merle, retired
western PA

A few leaflets trying to convince the VC/NVA to stop fighting.

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A couple more leaflets.

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Twenty years after my return stateside from my year in Vietnam, I came back from six months in the Desert Storm conflict. My reserve EVAC hospital, a 400 "man" unit, was activated at Thanksgiving and then bussed the 100 miles to Ft Riley, for further training. On Christmas Eve, my CO told me to pack my gear and get on a truck taking me and about 15 other troops to the Topeka airport, us being an Advance Party, off to Saudi Arabia.

The rest of my EVAC arrived piecemeal and then in mass about 5 weeks later. At the end of that combat, the 15 hospitals supporting that conflict were shut down, ours being the last one. Our CO offered those of us who had come over early the opportunity to return before the rest of my unit, who were still packing up our hospital. I was a bit conflicted, feeling I still had things to do, but also realized my presence wasn't necessary anymore, and if my wife found out I had had chosen to stay she would have been more than upset with me.

I took a month off to just be with my family; we went out to CO and I gave talks to community groups and such. I slowly began to ratchet down from the intensity of my personality, necessary in my desert responsibilities.

So about this time I needed to have as much Chocolate Chip gear and clothing as I could acquire. As if I needed it to keep me close to such a personally rewarding time in my life. I bought all sorts of such gear, more cammo jackets, gear bags, even Dopp Kits. I tried to surround myself with Chocolate Chip. I bought several used DigiCam long capes, knives, hats, got my own helmet and cover, and on and on. It was a compulsion I didn't understand at the time.

Perhaps a psychologist would have told me I was just trying to hold onto a life changing wonderful and fulfilling experience. In time I began to return to my civilian life and occupation, and gave much of my Chocolate Chip to Good Will, and sold more on garage sales. Incidentally, my five physician practice in Topeka had treated my wife badly in my absence, and that lingering distrust led to us to moving to South Carolina 5 years later.

War experiences can "wrap" all around us, sometimes in ways we don't realize. Gradually, I left all that behind, but now sometimes wear my Cammo "boonie' hat when I am walking on the beach.

I of course was at the Topeka Airport when the rest of my EVAC arrived. Here a pic of one of my best friends, a family practice MD from a small town in mid Kansas. We hunted pheasants together with our sons every fall. He soon left his wife for a nurse he met in our hospital. That happened a lot.

One more thing. When I resumed college back at Nebraska after my return from Vietnam, that war still on, I pedaled my bike to and from the campus. I put a small SF decal on my bike, and one day came out from a class to find someone had spit a big lugi on my seat. I sometimes wonder if that other student ever recalls his or her hostility in their own youth.

Off to the Rolex 24 at Daytona tomorrow.

Stay safe, and all the best.... SF VET
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Our ABDR (Aircraft Battle Damage Repair) Unit in DS/DS didn’t deploy as a organic unit but was a composite made up of members from several different reserve ABDR units, active duty and civilian techs. I was a reservist, as was my XO, my Senior Chief was active duty as was the leading 1st Class. Our Supply Officer was also active duty. My chief engineer was a reservist. We were out in the field and at forward bases throughout SA and later, Iraq. As the military drew down after the war, we did a gradual draw down of personal and equipment after about 4 months or so until, at the end after about six months in county, I had 18 reservists and active duty left. Civilian techs had all gone home by then. We closed up shop at Al Jabal, SA, and convoyed with our remaining vehicles to Bahrain where we parted company, after a very nice farewell gathering, each heading home in one’s and twos. I stayed around for a few days, filling out paperwork and reports, and writing up inputs to Eval’s and FITREPs. Then I left for Naples where I spent another week doing much of the same. When I finally left and headed for home, via MACAIR, I was fortunate enough to have company of some fellow reservist who were attached to our HQ unit in Bahrain. We arrived in Philadelphia, after what seemed like days of flying, but weren’t, with several other Mil Flts to a tremendous outpouring of patriotic support from the citizens of Philly. We were mixed in with probably several hundred other military personnel arriving in Philly at that time. The greeting was all very nice and we did appreciate it but it was over the top. I changed planes there for a commercial flight to Jacksonville where I was met by my wife and daughter. The greeting there at JAX was more subdued, surprising for a military town, but really welcomed as all I wanted was to get home. I took two weeks of leave to decompress and spend time with my family before reporting in to my civilian job.
I was not in combat as many of you here were; I was support. I did experience rocket and mortar attacks but they were of short durations and probably delivered halfheartedly. Given that, it still took me months to adjust to being home. It was high temp ops and a lot of the BS was put aside for awhile; we actually got some done. Lately, maybe because I’m aging, I have dreams about my time there. Nothing bad, just dreams.

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"Your other right........."

In 2012 I accompanied my Dad on an Honor Flight from Orlando, landing in Baltimore and busing to DC.


Everywhere we went the reception for these guys was overwhelming and most were emotional as a result.


My dad did 30 years, mostly in submarines. I was in for seven years also in submarines.


Amazing experiences.

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Chris S.
Fort Lauderdale, FL

Later today, meeting up with my son and his two lads, flying a HS senior grandson out from KC, and we are loading up and heading down to Daytona for the Rolex 24, a 24 hour sports car race.

So will be away for a few days, but wanted to post a pic here of my Buck General, in a custom sheath from Ranger Joe's at Benning. Sitting in a cafe with the local LTC District chief. The Buck was handy for this and that task. I have since given it to my son, along with some other nice knives. Wearing it with my issue 1911 and a two mag belt case.

Oh, picked up a mint early Ruger 44 mag carbine yesterday. Wanted one for many years, about completes my collection and acquisition. Which is a good thing, as I will be at Daytona when my wife sees the charge on my credit card. Mostly will blow over by the time I get back early next week, hopefully. I will reload for it too.

So stay safe, and see you all in a few days. SF VET[IMG][/IMG]

Saigon tea?????lol. No 33 on the table?

one full glass of 33, one empty glass. Plus several bottles of rot-gut soy sauce. Some debris-filled river ice to chill a bit. SF VET

SF Vet…” About completes my collection/acquisitions “
Lol! You funny GI

__________________
“Look life in its iron face”

AC7BD27C-6EC1-4420-99E8-30E7674795BF.jpg here you go….

The Chiu Hoi campaign (leaflets, radio, etc) encouraging hostiles to defect or surrender was reported as having some success. There were also reports or hostiles coming over (officially referred to as Hoi Chan), going thru the screening and indoctrination program, and becoming "Kit Carson scouts" to work with US or RVN troops, then using those opportunities to commit espionage or sabotage before returning to their NVA or VC commands.

The North Vietnamese command, the old Viet Minh who actively resisted the French through the 1950s, and the Viet Cong insurgent forces consisted of people with lifetime histories of war, occupation, colonization, political oppression, corruption, and generations of misery.

Vietnam was occupied by the Japanese Imperial forces throughout WW2, a brutal time of forced labor and deprivation. The Mekong Delta is known as the Rice Bowl of Southeast Asia. The rubber tree plantations were valuable assets for the war efforts.

The United States provided considerable material support to Ho Chi Minh's forces who resisted and harassed the Japanese occupiers using French and US military arms and ammunition. Thousands upon thousands of Springfield rifles, BARs, M1918 light machineguns, Thompsons, howitzers, and other weapons were provided to Ho's forces during WW2. After Mao's communists consolidated control in China (late 1940s and into the 1950s) the Vietnamese communists were supported in their fight against French Colonial forces attempting to return to the status quo ante.

Short version: The North Vietnamese leadership were highly experienced and committed, and the Vietnamese people in general were susceptible to promises of a bright shining future after many years of war and oppression. The folks we were engaging with by the 1960s were not amateurs by any standards, and they used every advantage they could exploit.

Our unit interpreter, ARVN Sergeant Tranh, summed it up pretty well when we discussed efforts to "Vietnamize" the war, relying more upon RVN forces with US efforts evolving into more of a support effort rather than active combat forces. Tranh simply said "Not our war, your war". In retrospect, 50 years later, I realize that the Vietnamese people (including RVN troops) were simply doing the best they could every day to survive after several generations of conflict without much hope or vision beyond the challenges of each day.

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Life of the party until 8:00PM

Lobo, your last sentance speaks volumes. Well said.

(As for Chu Hoi, my part was keeping the EC-47's flying out of Tan Son Nhut in 69-70. They did leaflet drops and other Psy Ops. We called them "******** Bombers").

Thanks for all the great stories. Brings back fond memories. I was at UDORN THANI, THAILAND and worked many of those same stories.

Been busy with this and that. As I have posted previously, I was deployed Christmas Eve for Desert Shield, which was to become Desert Storm. I just finished this book, and it was quite revealing about events I was part of but had no knowledge of. If you were part of that War, you might find it likewise very explanatory of your role in that conflict. The book was written in 1997, and begins with the story of General Franks' early career, his loss of a leg to a NVA grenade, his post war convalescence , and vows to never let that happen to his soldiers again. And then how he and others began to rebuild our broken, shattered even, military.

I recall those times, the depths of the morass our military had fallen into, and the gradual recovery. The book continues thru his subsequent career, the development of the Combined Arms Warfare theory, and then the build-up and the actual battle. There were other parts of that attack, the VII Corps, the XVIII Corps, the British, the Egyptian forces, and of course the Marine and Naval and AF missions. Most of the war account relates to the day by day action of the VII Corps, which was the armored fist of the "left hook".

For instance, I was soon 300 miles out in the desert, at a small group of tents, I knew it was some sort of field HQ. I just read that for about six weeks, it was the Log base for VII Corps. I didn't know that, I just tried to keep a very low profile. And the small town and airbase a short walk form my EVAC's desert site was a tactical HQ for the Corps. Didn't know that either. I knew it was wet and cold, but it was the wettest Jan & Feb in at least ten years. Or that an armored division uses 800,000 gallons of fuel per 24 hours, and getting that fuel and ammunition was a difficult, complex and dangerous operation, requiring many hundreds of fuel tankers. That one Div was going to run out of fuel in less than two hours when in battle with two Iraqi divisions. An Abrams' tank uses as much fuel idling as it does at full speed.

I always thought that modern, high-tech commo and navigation was every where, and now to find out one division had NO GPS, and had to rely on Loran. And that commo was often only "line of sight", and sometimes General Franks was out of contact with his fighting divisions for hours. Accounts of fratricide, and violent armored combat.

Gen'l Franks talks about the move of one of his divisions forward across Tap Line Road, and I happened to drive right the that movement-to-contact, and got out and took some pictures of what an Armored div looks like in the attack. Maybe the Ukrainian front line troops should consider what is going to come at them.

And then the accusations of Schwarzkoph, of which I am aware. And the "hogging" of the glory at the surrender site. And how CENTCOM was 12 hours behind on knowing what was actually happening.

Much of the book is an hour by hour account of the VII Corps' battle. I experienced only a tiny part of that War, and did meet Genral Franks when he came to visit his wounded at our EVAC.

So if you were part of that War, I highly recommend you read why you and your unit were ordered to do what you did.

Be back soon, SF VET


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Thanks, SF VET, for the recommendation - I’m a sucker for a good history book - especially one on a subject, as like you, that I had a small involvement.
Another good one is “Crusade” by Rick Atkinson. It’s a big picture book that covers the lead up, the war and aftermath (as of 1993) and the Navy/Marine Team contributions - something that interest me.

Thirty one years ago, the end of this month,…..my, oh my…..how time moves on…….

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"Your other right........."