I wanted to comment on the ammo for the snubby - it appears to be HBWC (Hollow Based Wad Cutter) loaded with the hollow based bullet loaded inversely. I can remember when that particular ammo was a favorite last-ditch loading for federal cops - especially guys in the treasury department and the FBI. The ammo was obviously not authorized for official use, but I knew of more than a few guys who carried the loads in their back-up guns with the thought that if they actually had to use the loads, the legalities would be the least of their problems. I remember shooting some of these loads out of snubby revolvers, and they were accurate at close range (7 yards), with mild recoil. Thankfully, to date, I've never had to fire a shot in anger, but I always wondered if the ammo would function as designed against hostile targets.

Regards,

Dave

I "enjoy" reading everything here. As I have said I never was "In Country." I had close friends that were. Two were in Special Forces. One in Vietnam and one worked with Air America in Laos. I had other friends that suffered horribly from the war and one Marine (very close friend) lost his mind over his experiences.

Me, I just lost faith in everything I ever believed in except God and that is a miracle alone. I held onto that one thing and I never even saw the place.

This is looking over from the roof of our shower/wash basin/piss tube at an ARVN unit coming in and re-organizing for some sort of sweep in my District. I never knew ahead of these what and when and where any of this sort of thing was going down. I am not sure my local Vietnamese HQ did either. There was no keeping any sort of military secret, so perhaps best operational plans were not shared with us or the local troops.

Many of the UH helicopters, the famous Huey's, were flown by Vietnamese but I don't know if they also flew the big CH47's. I have a hunch they were not trained to fly the Chinooks.

This is the market adjacent to our compound. I usually walked over to buy some sort of food to be prepared by Co, our housekeeper.

Vietnamese is an inflected, single syllable language. Each "word" has 4 or 5 meanings, depending on the subtle inflections of the pronunciation. It takes a good ear and practice to pick it up, with lots of mistakes. A single syllable can be a verb, an object, an adjective, or more.

I got pretty good at some basic language. I still can speak some phrases. In my medical career, sometimes a Vietnamese family would be in my clinic, and I would walk in and greet them and complement their kids and ask a few questions and the parents would be stunned to hear me.

But it wasn't always clear to me. For instance, the word for a crab, as in a crustacean, is almost the same inflection for a female''s privates. So when I would ask one of the toothless lady merchants in the market if she had any good crab for me, often they would rock back in laughter.

Once, I was going up to Saigon for some pay issue, and asked Son how to ask a cabbie for directions to the Ramada hotel. I will explain how the Officer's off post Ramada had NO connection with the US hotel chain.

Son told me a phrase to use, meaning "... please take me to the Ramada.." and when I hopped a taxi at the Tan San Nhut Air base gate and precisely spoke the phrase, the cabbie was indignant and upset with me. I did get to the Ramada with a different taxi.

When I got back I asked Son what I did wrong, and he laughed and told me what I was saying was "... I love you more than anything in the world!... "

Of such misunderstandings wars are started.

All the best, and stay safe... SF VET%
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[QUOTE=SF VET;141058512
...
There was no keeping any sort of military secret, so perhaps best operational plans were not shared with us or the local troops.
...
[/QUOTE]

Regarding secrecy...President Ford visited Camp Casey Korea in Nov 1974. The air field was outside the main compound, adjacent to the village, so instead he flew in by helicopter to the CG’s helipad in the center of the base.

Two days before he came there was a classified briefing where some LTC got up, emphasized how classified the information was, and described the itinerary for a few of us responsible for managing the air space. Not an hour later a few of us went to the ville for a beer and the bar girls were all excited. They were saying “Did you hear. US President fly helicopter to general’s helipad at 2:30 on Friday.” The bar girls probably knew before we did.

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Vegan by proxy.

Excellent! I have never heard a better explanation of the difficulties most of us experienced with the Vietnamese language. Everything depends on tonal inflection in pronunciation, with context also having a great deal to do with how one's comments might be interpreted by those who lived and thought in the language as a native speaker.

Vietnamese is a variation of the Cantonese group of languages, spoken by a huge portion of the world population. For those folks coming to our portions of the world it must be incredibly difficult to learn verbal communication without constant attention to tone, inflection, and context.

I must admit that I gave up learning. During my first tour we had an interpreter, Sergeant Tranh, who spoke very good American-style English. He also spoke Vietnamese, Cantonese (a common Chinese dialect), and several other dialects peculiar to Southeast Asia, and was able to tell a lot about others by how they spoke. Tranh did his best to teach and encourage me, but very little stuck between my ears.

Interesting how our memories work. I still think of Tranh and his family, doing their best in a part of the world that saw nothing but war and partisan conflict for generations. Tranh was from an ethnically Chinese family and culture, and had little regard for any other peoples. I do not say this as criticism, only as an observation on human behaviors.

More idle rambling here.

The Ramada hotel in Saigon had no affiliating with the US brand. It was a hotel that was used by visiting US troops, I don't recall if it was for officers or all US. I am sure it was not owned by the US, or if it was even official or just catered to US. When I would hitch a ride up to try the endless correction of my pay (The army double paid me every month), I would take my little gym bag and put my revolver in it, not wanting to risk losing my own 1911. I can't recall how I got the revolver, likely someone just gave it to me. I am not knowledgable about revolvers, but it did use moon clips and .45 ACP cartridges.

A room there was nice, and they had hot water for showers. I think it was about 3 stories, and had an open roof top, with a bar and girls.

It was surreal to be up top in the evening, and look out in the distance and see explosions, the occasional VC 122 mm rockets arc into the city somewhere, and sometimes distant Spooky gun ships firing streams of tracers towards the ground. Just an unreal experience. I would be drinking a cold beer 33, fending off a bar girl, and in the distance people were fighting and dying.

Because as I have mentioned my wife told me just as I was boarding the plane to take me to RVN, that she was going to live with another guy, all of this being totally unknown to me. I was not willing to have any relationship with a woman.

The bar girls up top did not use their names, but referred to themselves by numbers. I thought it sad that they would say "... when you come back, ask for girl 16 or girl 22" and the like. Even in a war, I was saddened to see what people, especially women were doing to try to survive. I think the bar women were desperately trying to find a GI to take them to the US. But to recall how they didn't even use their name, just a number....
Wars can be just awful experiences for everybody, not just the fighters. Probably always been that way.

At the close of the bar, the girls would follow to our rooms and keep lowering their price, and remove items of their clothing and try to bargain down to next to nothing. It was just something I could not participate in.

This was Saigon, and when I would travel by my Whaler up to Can Tho, the Delta Capital, sometimes I would check into a bar/hotel just to have a hot shower. At first, it was a bit un-nerving to strip and take a long hot shower in some big shower room, and have the bar girls come and watch me shower. I just thought "... I don't care, I just want to enjoy a hot shower."

Oh, I appreciate the PM's others send me greatly, but just can't seem to find the way to reply. I'll get it figured out, but thanks all the same.

Stay safe, and all the best.. SF VET

SF Vet, no story I could relate would compare with yours or even LoboGunLeather. You ever thought of writing and publishing your story as a memoir?

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

Not to diminish this superb thread in any way, but those of you who enjoy reading about VN, should read one of David Hackworth's books.

My wife says I need to read more enlightening happy books and not so much about Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Gunfighting, martial arts, and killing. I try to tell here I was raised by a WWII platoon Sgt. to be this way. I could do close order rifle drill before I left grade school with my own drill rifle. What, my collection of killing knives is not enlightening enough for you honey? Just stop checking the titles in my library and watch your cooking shows as they are your happy place dear.

I occasionally would get around with the help of the Brown Water Navy, in their jet boats, PBR's, ie, Patrol Boat River. They had jets not props, and assorted armaments. This is my Boston Whaler up in Camau, we could make the run in an hour or so, if both engines worked, never a sure thing. My Province US HQ was up in Camau, which had been badly sacked by the VC and Main Force in Tet of '68. When the Vietnamese LTC would go any where in my Whaler, he would load it up with a whole squad, which made it just slowly plow thru the water, and make us in my opinion sitting ducks for an ambush from the riverside. If I made a run, it would be just one or two bodyguards and perhaps Son or Kahn. Our Whaler was so waterlogged with bullet holes it would never get up on a plane.

This PBR has recoilless rifles up front, others had some sort of short barrel 81mm mortar firing gun.

We almost always made sure we could make it back home before evening came. I rarely went up to HQ, was much better to keep a low profile, and just try to be overlooked in whatever plans were afoot.

All the best... and stay safe, SF VET
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Dad did 32 weeks of Vietnamese Language training 1968-69 at Biggs Field (Ft. Bliss, TX) before his tour 1969-70. Here is his appraisal of the course:

"It was a great class. If you flunked out, they sent you to Vietnam. If you passed, they sent you to Vietnam."

His in country experience was such that he determined that he would NOT go back, and put in his retirement papers almost immediately upon his DEROS with 21 years service.

__________________
Only a cold warrior

Have any pics of the river monitor gunboats? I heard some were armed to the teeth some with a 105 howitzer and some flame thrower models. I would not want to tangled with a 105 howitzer armed with beehive rounds. I did my basic training for ROTC future officers at Fort Sill, OK. and saw those things demonstrated on targets. I would NOT want to be on the receiving end of those things.

this is the Plane of Reeds, and the local's made sure to wash their meals before preparing them. Happy Hog...

All the best, and stay safe.... SF VET
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One of my first assignments out of Cau Lan at the edge of the Plain of Reeds was to head out to some-where and try to teach local Vietnamese troops how to call in US airsupport. The Vietnamese were establishing little hamlets and small compounds to protect the former. The Plain was just water with waving reeds, with unpredictable depths, a few feet to a dozen or more. One could't tell by just looking down from a 'copter how deep it was. It was common for a Vietnamese Commander to order a solder to jump down and see if he could stand or just disappear out of sight.

Us US troops had very ambiguous orders. You would think an order given to us advisors would be something like...."You will depart at xxx hours, proceed to xxxx, accomplish xxx mission, and when Mission Complete, return."

Actually, it was just "...you and SGT X get yourselves out to around xxx, and do what you can to try to xxx, and get yourselves back in maybe a week or so."

In a few days after reporting in, I and the pistol-toting SSG hoped a ride out to a small hamlet with such a compound. I had a 4 year obligation but was just beginning to have some vague thoughts of possibly a career in medicine, vague because no one in my family was remotely in any medical field. The very first evening at my post, the local's asked me to see a young girl who had been somehow shot thru a lung. I examined the frightened hurting, dying child and told them they had to immediately put her in a small sampan, and get her to province. They all adamantly refused, saying there was no way they were risking going at night anywhere. So I radioed US, and asked for a Medivac for her, but was turned down. In some sort of need to do something, I wrapped her in my poncho liner, the quilted nylon blanket, and told the locals they had to go. I soon came back and they told me that indeed, she was on her way. I never saw her again, and soon realized they had just moved her to another hut.

When this episode was over, I sat down and had to find a way to come to some sort of peace with what I could and could not do in this war. And I did, and from then on, and in the years since, when confronted with awfulness in people and children, found my own comfort and peace by believing that they had bad Karma, or the wrong God, or bad luck, but I had not caused it, and could only do what I could. And be at peace with that.

From this and other events I was beginning to forge a new life path and passion.

Here is the "hootch" the two of us stayed in for that week. Was the dry season, so no need for a roof. These locals were perpetually napping and drunk, and had little interest in any training I was attempting. And I was never able to replace my poncho liner, and learned to sleep when cold anyway, without any sort of cover.

All the best and stay safe.... SFVET
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If my Professor of Military Science at Eastern New Mexico University had given me my first choice of branch assignments my life could have been very different as I wanted Infantry. My second cousin was the commanding General at Ft. Benning at the time. But my request was repeatedly refused because there was only one Infantry slot left and he was holding it for a guy who tried to get out of going into the Army after graduating college. I always wondered what happened to "that guy"? Go figure. Life does not go as planned.

Keep the great posts coming guys!

well, you just never know. When I graduated as a DMG after a ROTC scholarship and was given an Regular Army commission as a 2nd LT I requested Armor, because in my prior year summer camp at Ft Riley KS my experience with tanks was a lot of fun.

Nope, was assigned Infanry. Turned out OK for me.

All the best, and stay safe. SF VET

I was a ROTC scholarship myself. Small world. I spent three years in the Counter Insurgency Unit of my ROTC unit run by a Green Beret cadre. I got stuck in Air Defense Artillery which was as about as far from the Infantry I wanted to be in as I could get. Three years of training even on the weekends and nights running in the desert night air with an M14 over my head until my lungs felt like they would burst, practicing L-shaped ambushes, and oh so much more because I was sooooo gung ho on my own time voluntarily. They taught us "to do to the VC what the VC does to everyone else" as one of the Green Beret instructors said. Learning interrogation techniques from a Green Beret Major that I believe just may have invented some of them. Then I get stuck in Air Defense Artillery when I am volunteering for INFANTRY while others are getting stuck in infantry when they don't want it? Weird right?

I let my pride get in the way. I should have called my 2nd cousin that was commanding at Ft. Benning at the time and see if he could pull some strings for me! But no I was to bull headed and prideful to go to family for help.

After I got out of the regular Army and resigned my commission just before Grenada I joined the only US Army Airborne Infantry National Guard Unit. It was in Texas and full of a bunch of former vets mixed with fired up Texas weekend warriors led by former Vietnam multiple tour combat vets. Soldier of Fortune magazine heard about our little kingdom and came down to write an article on us. They praised us so highly it and above all the regular Army active duty units except the 82nd and 101st Airborne that it so ticked of the straitleg Pentagon types they proceeded to disband our unit in Texas and move it to the Socialist Republic of California for some years but could not get enough volunteers there. GO Figure! I had refused to accept my commission back but rather accepted E-5 rank. My Captain ( a three tour combat Vietnam vet) called me in after reading my file and tried to get me to reconsider taking my commission back. I agreed that if after one year in his unit if he still felt the same about me I would. It never happened as our unit was disbanded as mentioned above. By the time clearer heads in the Pentagon finally moved to unit back to Texas years I was now in my mid 40's and was just OVER all the "****" and no real support the Pentagon or USA for that matter was giving us so I was finally over it all. I did at least achieve 11B status though only briefly.

When Grenada happened we were called up and were on the flight line at Ellington Field sitting in rows with C-130s standing by to transport us as combat relief for the 82nd Airborne if needed. We were eventually released as we were not needed.

The plan, at least so far as I could tell, was for the Vietnamese to establish small hamlets way out in the Plain of Reeds, and build small defensive compounds for their protection. I didn't question this strategy at the time, but as I matured in my concept of "pacification", it was a flawed plan, especially with the troops who garrisoned these compounds.

If a purely defensive posture is maintained, it leaves the insurgents free to chose when and where to act. Lessons learned from defeating the Mau-Mau, and making progress against foes like the Shining Path, or hunting down Che. You have to take the battle to them, and maintain pressure with the initiative. Make the enemy react to you, not the reverse of that.

Anyway, out in the Plain, the locals could not farm, but only try to fish. The local troops had no interest in doing anything other than drinking and sleeping, once they built their sanctuary.

It was futile fore me to try to change that mindset.

When a unit in contact communicates with supporting air assets and marks their position with smoke, you would not say. ".. I have yellow smoke out at my position'. because Chuck would be listening in and also throw yellow smoke.

So you would just say "... smoke out." and let the pilots confirm your color. But it was necessary to try to confuse the listening enemy by the pilot not just saying '.... I have yellow."

So I tried to teach slang phrases the pilots would use like "... I had banana for breakfast", or "...I like cherry pie".... or "... I had grape nuts for breakfast.." or if white smoke, "... our leader lives in a white house".

As you can imagine it was hopeless. My assistant and I would hang around for a week or so, eating the local rice and soy sauce and whatever was around, usually duck in some fashion. Our pickup would be some chopper flying around the area on this or that task.

When I would get back to my own compound, time for a hot shower and chow, clean my weapons, and see what was happening in the world.

I was a MAT leader for six months in this capacity, and it seemed to me that the time passed very quickly. My jungle fatigues were becoming a nice worn and ragged appearance, important when I would have a meal up at the Officer's Club in Saigon. Sort of a way to show a "been there, done that" look.

All the best, and stay safe. SF VET
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SF VET you should write a book or two.
Plus have a bunch of your great color photographs in there too.
Most books I read about Vietnam have a few grainy b&w pictures.

I was at Udorn Thani RTAFB, Thailand. I saw pilots who brought their own weapons with them from the states. I figure if your life depended upon your weapon, then you need to have a weapon that you are comfortable with (and are proficient). The only place that there were weapons was at the Wing CP. (2 M16s and a few mags). When the base was overrun by the VC, there were very few weapons that AF personnel had access to ... the base was "supposed" to be defended by the Royal Thai Army ... they were "absent" went the attack happened and did not return until the VC left.

These combat veterans stationed in the Plain of Reeds. Life was easy for them, they never ventured out to hunt the local bad guys. The troop on the far right, to my left, was perpetually drunk, and would follow me around and salute me. I would never have trusted him with any sharp blade or firearm. The other happy guy is Mr. Lucky, himself. If something were to go down, I doubt they could have located their weapons.

All the best.... and stay safe, SF VET
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But if you had to venture outside the wire, I think most of us would rather go with chaps like these two troopers. These are part of my bodyguard team way down south, where I spent my second six months. These fellows liked killing, and would come back with "trophies" of their nocturnal adventures. They had a rather serious attitude about the business at hand.

All the best, and stay safe..... SF VET
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Are those 40mm rounds secured with rubber bands ?

Reminds me of a taxi ride that I had in Korea when I was stationed there in 83-84. As soon as the driver picked us up at the camp gate, he started to tell his Vietnam war stories. Pretty bloody and gruesome, but he seemed to really be enjoying himself. Don't know if he was just trying to impress a couple of US GIs, or if he really was a stone cold killer. I have heard stories about the ferocity of ROK soldiers and Marines in Vietnam, so maybe he was the real deal.

__________________
Only a cold warrior

Anyone have any dealings with the Nung?

Pic of a Vulcan Air Defense APC repurposed for ground defense.









The 20MM gun fires at 3,000 rounds per minute in short bursts of 10, 30, 60, or 100 rounds, or it can fire in continuous fire mode in ground mode. Its 20x102mm round gave it a low effective range of only 1,200 meters, and its standard air-defense load of HEI-T rounds would self-destruct at approximately 1800 meters, a hard limit on range.

A platoon of four VULCANs plus one maintenance float was deployed to RVN and assigned to an automatic weapons artillery battalion.

The platoon was further attached to automatic weapons artillery
batteries in support of ground elements in the III and IV Corps
Tactical Zones.


The VULCANs were tactically employed during a five-month period on missions similar to those assigned to the MU2 UQBB Duster units and the M55 Quad .50 caliber machinegun units. These missions included convoy security, reconnaissance in force, security for mine sweep operations and engineer quarry operations, security for medical civic action prog/ams, show-of-force runs, perimeter defense, and ambush patrols.

The cyclic rate of high explosive fire was unsurpassed by any other ground combat weapon in RVN, and supported units were highly impressed with the additional firepower provided by the VULCAN. The XM166 cannon proved to be a highly reliable and durable weapon. All shortcomings found in ether components of the system are surmountable with no major retrofit requirements.

In view of the limited number of VULCANs committed for the combat evaluation, meaningful experience factors regarding total equipment and resupply requirements were not developed. However, several findings were established regarding TOE changes pertaining to personnel and equipment.

The VULCAN system was highly effective in RVN and it is recommended that TOE VULCAN organizations be deployed to RVN for use in a ground role.

Let us get something straight I was never in country RVN! The above is to honor my ADA brothers that were; not to try to take any honor from them!

It doesn’t sound like you were directly attached to an ARVN infantry unit or district malita. When you worked directly with the district chief like that, were you considered part of the Phoenix Program?

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Vegan by proxy.

A reply to several questions.

I shot K'chrome and Ectachrome I would buy at the Saigon PX, but was very careful of "wasting" my pics, as I only had a few rolls available to me at a time. Kodachrome was I think rated at ASA 25, the Ectachrome at 160. The former is fade proof to heat, but continued exposure to light from a hot projector can in time fade them. E'chrome fades both from heat and light, and is not really archival stable. Plus a lot more grainy, I can tell the difference in them when viewing. You can develop E'chrome at home, K'chrome had to be professionally developed, no longer available. I shot a few rolls of print film. A few years ago, I asked the editor of the National Geographic Traveler Magazine what I could do with my slides, and he told me they no longer scanned their own, but sent them for high-resolution scanning by the company ScanCafe, you can look them up.

I am aware of the flechette artillery loads, but don't recall ever being around them. There are accounts of how devastating they were in repelling attacks.

I never had any direct contact with regular ARVN troops, but did accompany my local units when we passed thru areas they had operated in. Had to hold my breath when passing the piles of decaying bodies they piled up. By the way, the local VC/Main Force did not wear black "pajamas", but rather a shade of blue.

My counterparts were not militia nor ARVN or Ranger, or the equivalent of our own National Guard. They were full-time solders, of vastly varying enthusiasm and leadership.

Here is a pic of my counterpart in my second six months, a LTC, who in my experience was a good tactical commander. Spoke fluent English, and had been to some of American military schools. His residence was in the other end of our metal building.

Here, he is talking with the "mayor" of a tiny hamlet. The VC killed the mayor several days later. I was told they put his head on a stake but I don't know that for sure. Trying to be loyal to either side was a precarious and risky endeavor.

Stay safe, and all the best.... SF VET
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I don't come to this part of the forum much and I ran across this thread when I accidentally clicked on it.

Fascinating and sobering stuff and I hope you keep posting it.

You also have a good eye, particularly for taking pictures of people, which is really hard to do well consistently.

These people could be in danger just talking to either side.

It seemed most could care less which side ran the show, they just wanted to be left alone so they could get on with life.

Deep in the Delta, if I wanted to go somewhere too far or too risky to go in our sluggish, waterlogged Boston Whaler with two unreliable 40 HP Johnsons, I would get on the radio and ask if any choppers where out and about, and ask if they could drop by and pick me up. Sort of like Rotary Uber, and usually I would ride along as the chopper continued on its rounds. Sometimes to sling out a downed "bird", or drop off a sling load of ammo somewhere, sometimes for an administrative mission. Once, spent a few hours and lunch at a big US Chopper base, and wondered why the crews and support there had such lousy facilities. My shower was so much cleaner than theirs, and the rest of the place was just really run down. Maybe sinking morale or poor leadership, to allow their command to live in such unnecessarily fetid conditions.

I like this pic, up a thousand feet, where the air was cool and clean just looking out at he abandoned rice paddies. Just relaxing in the nylon sling seats in the back of a slick.

Peaceful, cool and clean, heading somewhere for a break or with luck, a good meal.

All the best, and stay safe... SF VET
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Once again, my service is post-Vietnam, but your latest of the ride in the slick triggered a memory. I won't use names to protect the guilty, but I made friends with a helicopter pilot in Korea, and if I had to go from Taegu to Seoul I would try to snag a ride with him since it was a far sight better than making the trip in a Jeep.

On one trip, we did a little sightseeing. I was wearing a harness and leaning out the open door taking in the sights while wearing the crew chief communication helmet. At one point, I asked the pilot what those orange panels on the ground were. He said " Oh, scat", and threw the Huey into a hard turn. I thought that the harness was going to give way with the added stress on it.

When we landed, I asked him what they were, and he told me that they were markers for the DMZ. We had gotten a little off course with the sight seeing. It also explained why folks on the ground were a bit quizzical that a bird from Taegu approached the field from the north.

__________________
Only a cold warrior

Always exciting when helecopters turn on a dime.

I’m surprised you were able to wander that far north. There was an Army ATC approach control radar site called FCC Warrior that was on a remote mountain top just south of the DMZ, northwest from Camp Casey, and east of Panmunjom. They didn’t do approach control. They monitored all the Army VFR helicopter traffic along the western quarter of the DMZ to prevent unintentional incursions. You guys must have been pretty far east or really far west to get past them.

Not my photo, from the web, but this is the site. Very remote.

Attached Images

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Vegan by proxy.

You never pissed off the supply sargent, the mess sargent or his cooks.

We had come up the east coast on our sightseeing jaunt. My pilot friend was also surprised that we hadn't been caught, and he never suffered any repercussions.

__________________
Only a cold warrior

That makes sense. As I recall it, the ROK's were responsible for the DMZ airspace in the eastern half of Korea. The US had the western half. Probably set up that way because of Panmunjom and proximity to Seoul.

__________________
Vegan by proxy.

In the early '50's, my dad's P2V patrol plane squadron was rotated to Alaska for a six month tour, mostly out of Adak, to patrol along the US/Russian border. He told me once he was a bit lost, and finally saw some distant land, and was wondering where they were, with navigation back then much less accurate than now-a-days.

About the time he realized it was Russia visible in the distance, his radar operator called out "... we have Migs coming in.." so dad firewalled the throttles and dove and ran back to the US.

Lucky as the next squadron that rotated up had a P2V lost with its crew to the Russians, who shot down surveillance planes even out over international waters.

Risky times...

All the best... SF VET

And especially the Company Clerk/Battery Clerk that had access to your records.

This is the jail at my second "place of business" deep in the Delta. Looking carefully at this this pic makes me wonder if this is the jail when I first got there, as it just looks different than the one just outside the compound's moat, which had been just completed when I arrived. I think this jail was in the process of being moved to its new location.

But the local troops would put whomever they wished to detain in these little cages, not tall enough for someone to stand in, no laltrine or toilet either, I suppose they just used some bucket or the like. Sometimes part of the cage would have some metal covering, but really no protection from the rain or the sun. The local troops would put men and women and sometimes whole families in the cage while they figured out what to do with them. If a turn-coat was captured, which happened all the time, he would be kept in there until the next operation, when he would invariably try to make a run for it. This always happened away from where I was at the time. I think there was some sort of unwritten rule that a solder was only allowed to change sides one time.

I don't recall any wailing or crying or the like, the mothers would just breast feed their infants and wait. I am not sure who fed them. It was just something I chose to not get involved in.

This pic shows how good Japanese lenses and cameras were then, and how K'chrome with high-resolution scanning can look nearly 60 years later.

All the best and stay safe,,, SF VET
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And here are two turncoats, at least one in handcuffs, trying to plan their escape when the next operation would take place.

When you are an advisor, it is necessary to resolve what you can change, and what you can't. For me, sometimes I would think to myself "...this is your war, not mine."

All the best, and stay safe... SF VET
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Adak was out there. My uncle was in the Navy and stationed on Adak during that time. I became interested in Randall knives because of a Randall he carried in AK. They are incredible knives. Now his was used every day, not a safe queen like the ones I have now.

Love this thread. I was too young for Vietnam. But, in '73 or '74 the Navy brought a PBR up our local river to show the flag etc. I had my own boat then and went down to see it. A Uniflight 32 footer, fiberglass hull, with 2 big diesel bus engines powering 2 Jaqouzi jets. At full speed they could do a 180 degree turn, in one boat length, by plowing the bow and reversing one jet, which they demonstrated. Very cool, they were also giving rides to the public. I asked if they could do the turn with me on board. They said they could not in front of the other on lookers. I knew the channel, they did not, even though they only draw some 18in of water IIRC. These guys were were really cool. So the Chief let this 15-16 year old kid DRIVE the boat 1 mile up river where no body could see. It was a blast. I still remember to this day. We got drenched. A fine piece of American technology.

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No baby we aint

Thanks all for your service!

Geo

This is a pic of the inside of our "hootch." I arrived just in time to help build my home for six months, inside a metal corrugated building. We raised it up several feet on blocks or something: I can remember now. This view is from our "parlor", which had a kitchen counter and dining table, and several chairs, and our commo equipment, including our "scrambler." This was a 20 pin handle, which I would re-set every morning then insert into a scrambler, which would encode our radio. We did not have any phone lines, or teletype, so as I recall it must have somehow encoded our conversations with the US HQ up in Province, in Camau.

The next room behind Kahn is our bedroom, four bunks, with mosquito netting, then a few streps up to our our shower and sink and piss tube to the moat. We had 55 gal drums up on the roof, and would strip down and direct the rain gutters to fill other drums on the ground, then carry it up to our shower and sink. In the dry season, we had to go across the river in our Whaler to buy foul tasting well water.

On the wall is our covered tactical map, and just below my briefing charts for visiting VIP's. More about that later. When I would go accompany the local's on their operations, I had a big 1:50000 map in a waterproof case. I would fold it up and carry it in a side cargo pocket. I still have that map, and it still has the blue grease. pencil markings on it, denoting compounds and possible enemy sightings and the like. Plus other blue greasepencil markings for this and that. My map is unchanged from the day a chopper picked me up to return to "The Land of The Big PX."

In another post I'll relate my nifty field expedient method of convincing visiting VIPs to board their chopper and leave my little Kingdom. And what happened to Kahn's hair when we had a misadventure with our purification vials.

All the best, and stay safe. SF VET
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This is our "shower" and latrine, (urine only, for the other we had to walk out just beyond the wire, to a set of poles over a stagnant inlet of our river). We had semi-clean 55 gal fuel drums on top, two as I recall, and would carry rain water up in the Monsoon season, or foul tasting well water from across the river in the "dry season".

One day, I got a radio alert that we were about to get a surprise inspection from some sort of Army hygiene team. Maybe to count the rotting rat carcasses between our helipad and our living quarters. But HQ cautioned me that they would test our drinking/shower water to be sure it was pure and safe. I had vials of sodium hypochlorite or something like that, was one vial for a 55 gal drum. Being a cautious person, I cracked open a whole box of vials, and dumped all of them into our water drums. No way I was going to risk some sort of report on unsafe living conditions.

The inspection team came and went, and as I recall I heard no more about it. But that evening, Kahn went up a few steps to take a shower, and in a moment came down hollering about his burning eyes, which we quickly rinsed out with some canteen water. He recovered in the next few days, but for the next month Kahn had bleached blond hair. When he got over his eye problems, Kahn was proud of his California Beach Boy hair.

This is SFC Tom C, taking in the evening cool air, looking out over the surrounding area. I always recalled SFC T as being older than my then 24 years of age, but when I look at this pic, perhaps he really wasn't much older. He was an SFC on his second tour, so perhaps really about my age after all. He was looking forward to getting back to "The Land Of The Big PX" and his wife and two daughters, and his Easy Rider motorcycle.

We got along fine, but always kept that officer/enlisted relationship intact, he was SFC C.... to me, and I Sir or Captain to him.

When I had been a young Lt in Germany, I had seen what happened when a fellow LT was on a first name basis with his platoon, and the Division Commander walked up and observed this LT asking politely unsuccessfully his men to lie down in their defensive position in the snow. That Lt was gone by morning. I suspect our then Division Commander had been a company commander in the Battle of the Bulge or he Ardennes in WWII.

All the best, and stay safe... SF VET
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For me, this is good.

A slight rant. My experience in the '73-'76 post-Vietnam time frame was it was common for O-2/O-3 Army Aviators to call enlisted soldiers they were around frequently by their first name. I never said anything when it happened, but I never liked it.

Externally I'd smile and say "Yes, sir." Internally, my mind was screaming -- "You can call me by my last name. You can call me by my rank.You can call me '****head', but don't call me by my first name. You're an Army officer. You're not my friend." Just a rant from long ago.

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Vegan by proxy.

SF VET, it was the Commander and his CSM that were at fault.

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CSM, U S Army(Ret) 1963-1990

I spent 20+ years in the Army, enlisted, NCO, and commissioned (OCS), retired captain (O-3E). Spent most of my time on tanks. In Germany one morning 0200 hrs we had an alert, and when everything was done our CO told us LTs to put our gear away and get our platoons back to work, "...except you," he said to me. We had a tasking for an LT for a last minute Mobile Training Team mission. From Frankfurt am Main we spent around 17 hours in airline seats up under the tail of a loaded C-5. There were multiple air-to-air refueling and we landed in the dark before spending 6 weeks training some very nice, very professional people how to use some equipment that used to belong to us. We were also told not to go anywhere alone and to carry our .45s with us every where cocked and locked by the LTC running the MTT. We never left the base/training site or, to my knowledge, ever met any civilians. We were "never there." I found out that I had been picked because I had been an instructor at Ft Knox before OCS and had a TS w/crypto access clearance. After another 19 hour C-5 ride I got back to Germany with some stupid cover story. The long C-5 rides were to avoid overflying places that didn't like us.

Sent from my SM-A516V using Tapatalk

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CPT, Armor (Ret)
Luke 22:36

The best!

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SWCA1517 SWHF256
Rangers LTW!

This is our "home sweet home", ours being in the right side, the District Chief, a Vietnamese LTC, lived in the other half. Ours was built inside the metal building, up a few feet on blocks. The inner compound had barbed wire running all thru it, to make it more difficult for an over-running enemy to just run hither and yon in in the dark or smoke. There were some dug depressions in the middle, mostly for digging up some mud for the berm. The whole area had a wafting aroma, from the cooking fires, and dead rats and sewage in the inner moat. But pretty soon we didn't notice it. Looking back at my life, I think I have about 5% mongrel dog DNA.

I don't recall any unhappiness about living like this for six months; I was pretty content with my living conditions, and kept busy with my duties.

We were at the far end of any US command interest, and did not often have visitors. I liked it that way. But occasionally, I would hear some distant chopper, and my radio would cackle to life and a pilot would tell me that such and such would be on my helipad in a few minutes for a briefing.

I had it all worked out. I would give the signal to some of the boys in the compound, and they would gather up some rotting rat carcasses, and fling them under my "hootch" as I met the incoming officers at the helipad. I would escort them to my place, and invite them to sit on my couch, and then begin my briefing on Song On Doc district, and what was happening.

In a couple of minutes, the nauseating odor of the rotting rats would waft up from below, and fill the room with a most awful odor. You cold almost see the stench in the air. Invariably, in a couple of minutes, my visitors would stand up and make come comment like "... well, Captain, it seems that things here are coming along just fine, and we'll be on our way."

And as I would walk with them back to their chopper, they would gag and comment how the air was so nice and cool and clean a thousand feet up. I am sure they wondered how I lived with such awful smells in my home.

As soon as they lifted off, I would signal to the boys, and they would crawl under my hootch and pull out the offending rats, and toss them into the moat, and soon all was clear in my home. I never got even three minutes into my briefings before the VIP's would up and leave me to my own life.

When one is an Advisor, and free of just about every command influence, it is essential to use "field expedient" means to accomplish one's mission. And sometimes, that includes using the local rats, as they had their part to play in that war too.

All the best.., and stay safe (I have now gotten both Covid shots)

SF VET
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I just have no clue how to respond to these posts. The way you communicate these events in such a "matter of fact" way is simply beyond my comprehension. Thanks to ALL of you that served and God bless.

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Pass it on.
Mark