Snubby in Vietnam

life goes on...

I was (and am) a Board Certified Pediatrician, and later in my army career a Flight Surgeon. After my pediatric residency in Denver, I spent two years in a postdoctoral fellowship in Nephrology, so had more than a causal interest in fluid and electrolytes.

One day, a small child, perhaps 6 or 8 months old was flown in. I just don't recall if his mother came in too. But this child was profoundly dehydrated, so I put in a tibial interosseous infusion needle, and tried for several days to gently restore without any labs to guide me, perfusion of his vital organs and especially his brain. About the third day, despite our efforts, and the tender and loving care of our nurses, I found no cerebral responses, nor any other signs of a returning cerebral function, so after asking his nursing team if they wished to continue our futile resuscitation, I discontinued his infusion and care, and asked our transfer team to find a place for the child to go to.

Our hospital staff, and indeed all of our troops knew about our little Iraqui infant and his desperate and fragile state, and when word traveled that he had died, I could sense a feeling of loss, esp in our nursing team.

But several hours later, an Iraqi mother arrived, and was in state of a failed labor. She promptly went into one of our OR's, and a general surgeon delivered a healthy newborn. It helped to lift our spirits.

Like in other memories, I wonder if this now 30 year old person (I can't recall if the infant was male or female) feels any appreciation for a distant nation who saved his life, and his mothers too.

As I have said so many times in this thread, it was as if we told every incoming patient "..., don't worry we got this."

All the best.. NAM VET
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As I have mentioned previously, I called my wife and mother of our 3 year old son from Travis AFB just before boarding a jet to Vietnam, and she informed of her affair with an Army doctor, and would be now living with him. Totally, totally surprising me.
We had several guys in the squadron who received "Dear Johns" from there wives. I remember one fellow took it really bad and was sobbing while he read the letter from his wife that said something along the lines of you are there and I am here and I want to enjoy myself.

We were at Chu Lai and just about everything was off limits. The village was definitely off limits after 1800 hrs and we were warned about going there during the day. Since we worked 12 hour days, seven days a week it was hard to find the time. Ky Ha was close by but again it was hard to find the time.


Since I had a military drivers license, I spent 30 days as the S2 driver. We were warned not to get stuck in the sand. It probably meant a stripe if they had to come tow you out.
Took some Army guys back to there area one night. Had to go out the gate and into the Army compound and back. This was about 2300 and coming back to the base alone in the middle of nowhere was challenging.
They tried to hire locals to work on the base. We complained that we saw several of them counting paces from the road to the hootch's. Shortly after that the living area took a couple of hits from rockets. A hootch near mine took a direct hit. Tossed me out of my cot and onto the floor. Looking back on it, it was sad and funny all wrapped up in one big mess. The hard part was there was nothing we could do about it. You could watch them launch the rockets from the mountains. Sometimes we would take side bets on where they would land. I asked a pilot why we couldn't launch a couple of hot pad birds and bomb the sites. It only took four minutes to be airborne. He said it would take a phone call to Saigon to get approval and by that time they would be long gone. That was my introduction to "rules of engagement". Sucks.
 
We had several guys in the squadron who received "Dear Johns" from there wives. I remember one fellow took it really bad and was sobbing while he read the letter from his wife that said something along the lines of you are there and I am here and I want to enjoy myself.

We were at Chu Lai and just about everything was off limits. The village was definitely off limits after 1800 hrs and we were warned about going there during the day. Since we worked 12 hour days, seven days a week it was hard to find the time. Ky Ha was close by but again it was hard to find the time.
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Many of us can tell similar stories, most of which would be true. Vietnamese civilians taking jobs on US compounds so they could survey the layout, locations of aircraft revetments, fuel bladders, troop quarters, HQ areas, etc, very common.

I recall one position where we regularly took rocket artillery fire at all hours of the day and night. Turned out the bad guys were setting up the launchers with electrical firing devices controlled by cans of water; as the water evaporated off the electrical contact would be completed and the rockets would fire. Any counter-battery fire would hit nothing but empty launchers and unoccupied real estate.

By 1971 we were under orders not to return fire unless higher HQ was notified of the contact and gave permission. Perimeter defenses and patrols were required to account for every round of ammunition issued. Of course, being GIs we worked around that by hoarding extra ammo so that the required accountability could be easily accomplished.

US compounds, particularly forward bases, always had "free fire" zones, and it was well known that anything that moved within those defensive sectors would be engaged. By 1971 we required command orders to engage, even when we came under fire.

Ambush patrols, usually a pretty straightforward proposition, based upon intelligence information we would sneak into position and remain overnight to interdict anything moving along a particular trail or terrain feature (valley, streambed, whatever). By 1971 there were orders requiring us to announce ourselves and demand surrender, engaging only if resistance was offered.

Many stories will be heard about US forces abandoning a position (fire base, observation post, etc), then having to go back and recapture the same ground weeks or months later. I saw that on several occasions.

We never lost a significant battle. We certainly didn't lose the war. But we didn't really prosecute the war effort during those years, and eventually our forces just packed up and left (an apparently recurring theme these days).
 
Time for some happiness and smiles. My EVAC was "called-up", or more correctly Activated right around Thanksgiving of '89. We were HQ'd in Topeka, KS, just across town from where my home was. In the Army Reserves, at least back then, our unit would "drill" one weekend a month, for which, being four half days, gave us four days of pay for whatever our rank was. I was by then an LTC. Our higher up command felt physicians had little reason to sit around for a weekend, so we were authorized to just do our usual hospital work. And drop by the Unit for a few hours.

Our Unit also did a two week "summer camp", usually out to Ft. Riley KS, or Camp Shelby in Minn. All of us would go on that trip. We would practice our army hospital duties, but with lots of evening commraderie. I had some good friends in the unit, and often hunted pheasants with some of them in the fall. I am a pretty good rifle and pistol marksman, but a terrible wing shooter.

When our EVAC returned Stateside after the War, I elected to transfer to another Reserve Hospital up in Minn. My commander in that unit asked if I wanted any sort of special schooling, so went to Ft. Rucker AL to become a Flight Surgeon, fulfilling a childhood dream to wear Flight Wings like my Dad, a career Naval Aviator, whose carrier was sunk in WWII.

Was promoted then to COL, and for about five more years, that hospital would train by traveling to Central American countries, where we would send medical teams up into the mountains, and give medical and dental care to imporverished families. By the hundreds. The most patients I have ever seen in one day was 370, just allowing a few seconds to examine, Dx, and specify what meds and treatment they could get further down the line. A Fascinating and fulfilling experience, again with my trusty Pentax. I could go on and on about what I saw and did way up in those mountains. I was examining and treating people of all ages, about every 60 seconds, and one of our nurses whispered to me "..pick up the pace, we have to be out of here by dusk." I replied "...are you kidding me???'

Anyway, my EVAC was at Riley in the WWII buildings for about a month, where we mostly bided our time, some weapons training, lots of protective mask training, and such. I was detailed to attend a one week Chemical Officer training course, becoming our Hospital's Chemical Officer. You really don't want to mess with Sarin and other nasty agents.

Here, one cold winter KS day, we are falling in for some trip out to a range, all smiles and cheerfulness, and comradeship. The female in the center wearing glasses was our head nurse, later making general. Just an assortment of Americans, about to embark on the adventure and mission of a lifetime. We didn't know that yet.

It was to be one of the greatest experiences of my life.

All the best... NAM VET
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They tried to hire locals to work on the base. We complained that we saw several of them counting paces from the road to the hootch's. .

The locals were allowed to come inside the perimeter and work and the Tet offensive was only about a week or two old, when we received incoming mortars early one morning. These vehicles were parked in front of the Lt. Colonel, the XO and other Officers tents that were in a row. (later that day the tents were staggered and spread them out in different locations.) If they hit just 10 feet or so behind the vehicles, they would have hit several tents. The white arrow was the impact point on the deuce and a half.

Thanks goodness we were dug in underground and sandbagged, unlike the first day we moved in this area and had a few mortars dropped in our area before we was dug in or sandbagged. We found out later this was NVA along with VC.
 

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The locals were allowed to come inside the perimeter and work and the Tet offensive was only about a week or two old, when we received incoming mortars early one morning. These vehicles were parked in front of the Lt. Colonel, the XO and other Officers tents that were in a row. (later that day the tents were staggered and spread them out in different locations.) If they hit just 10 feet or so behind the vehicles, they would have hit several tents. The white arrow was the impact point on the deuce and a half.

Thanks goodness we were dug in underground and sandbagged, unlike the first day we moved in this area and had a few mortars dropped in our area before we was dug in or sandbagged. We found out later this was NVA along with VC.

An old saying, back in the day: If you think sex is exciting you should try incoming!
 
When word come down that it was our time to begin to dismantle our desert hospital, we were one of the last to do so, and I believe the last medical unit out in the desert to stand down. I have always thought it was because our reputation as a Can-Do hospital made us the likely last unit. The co-located EVAC, out of Arkansa also stood down. We began to clean and pack up, but kept providing "tail-gate" medicine, for minor injuries and accidents and illnesses. By now I did not have much to do, and soon our CO gathered up our small original Advance Party, maybe 20 or of us, and told us we were going home early. I was OK with that. I was placed in charge of our little group.

As we climbed up into our trucks for the ride to a Saudi Airbase, I reached down and picked up a small worn rock, and put it in my ruck, and it now rests in my career shadow box, along with a six inch piece of concertina I cut from our perimeter.

We were trucked to a huge tent, where thousands of US troops were inspected for contraband and dangerous souvenirs. We opened up our rucks and duffles, and the MP's had their dogs sniff thru our gear. I doubt they were looking for drugs, as it would have been impossible to source that out in the desert. But looking for dangerous things. We had heard rumors of firearms being hidden in truck tires, and AK's in aircraft parts. But maybe these rumors were spread by the MP's, just to scare us.

I do know that when some of our 'choppers came back from the Grenada conflict, while I was at Bragg years before, some AK's were found hidden and some troops went to prison for it.

The next day, we boarded a chartered 747, and had great US meals, without needing Tobasco, and watched a special movie with Robin Williams and other fun actors, explaining what had happened Stateside while we were away.

We landed at the airfield in Columbia, SC and were bussed over to Ft. Jackson, where I found our little group just couldn't get further transport back to Topeka. On the bus to Jackson, I was amazed to see all the flags and people cheering on overpasses and beside the road. It was so different from when I came back from Vietnam. I took us over to the base theater, where civilian booking agents were trying to find flights for many young troops who had just completed their basic training, and returning troops like my little group. The agents told me there was nothing available.

I turned around and yelled for every one in the building to shut up and immediately sit own, and a few hundred young troops immediately did so. Then in the now silent building, I turned to an agent, and told him no one was going anywhere until he had a flight for my team. One of my men behind me whispered "... lt is his size 13 boots speaking.".

In a few minutes we had a charter home to Ft Riley, a hundred miles from our home in Topeka. We were going home. More in a another post about how it was after six months away. It was awhile before I could "calm down" and begin to ease back into family and my pediatric practice. The former went well, the latter, not so much.

All the best.. SF VET
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Here is another pic of the big tent at the Saudi Airbase where our gear was inspected for contraband before we walked out onto the tarmac to board a 747 for our return. I recall we spent one night on these cots before we left. I think the airbase was Hafar Al Batin, up north near the Iraqi boarder.

As you can see, we are "pumped", and just so excited to be going home, having been overseas for right at 5 months. The soldier with the mustache in the center is a really good friend. He was a family practice physician about a hundred miles west of my home in Topeka. As a local MD in his smaller town, he had permission to hunt from the ranchers and farmers out his way, which was back then prime pheasant country.

He had four sons, I one, and pheasant hunting is not a solitary event, but more "tribal." So for the early years of our sons, we put them at the ends of our lines, but as they grew up they carried their own shotguns. Us fathers would blast away at a bird flying down the line, until our sons would just knock them out of the sky. Young eyes and quick reflexes. My son mowed yards and saved his money to buy his first firearm, a Browning pump 20, at the same gun store I have bought firearms for over 40 years in Nebraska, and where I bought my Winchester 70 a month ago. I hunted with my 870 or my Browning side by side. Like I said, I was and always will be a crummy wing shot. I was always the last oner to limit.

My MD buddy was an ex-marine, then married to his wife whose father was the first soldier in the 1st Infantry Division to be killed in Vietnam when that Division deployed to that war in '65. He was a platoon sgt, who was running to inspect his perimeter in a mortar attack when he was killed. The first of thousands from that distinguished Division. As you can imagine, she was full of anxiety that after losing her father when she was a child, now her husband was off to a war.

His marriage did not survive Desert Storm, as he left that marriage and married a nurse he met in our hospital. It happened a lot. Absence does not always make the heart grow fonder.

But Jimmy was a friend thru and thru. One of those men who we know who would always stand with us no matter what. As a former marine grunt, when I drew a .45 as a sidearm, he drew an M16. Once a marine, always a rifleman.

All the best... NAM VET
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the "inspection" was done by army MP's with their search dogs. And yes, there was a big box in a more private location, for disposal of items troopers decided to not attempt to take back home, firearms and explosives. It was placed well away and before we entered the big tent, and began to unpack our stuff. I don't think the military had any interest in soldiers who thought better of something wrong, and discarded whatever it was they were considering keeping.

A couple of our troops looked in the contraband box out of curiosity, and remarked how full it was with weapons and such.

What a difference from when I DROS'ed from Vietnam; no one ever searched my little gym bag. I could have brought back my Grease Gun and some Claymores.

As for my own EVAC, so far as I know, the only "sensitive" item that never made it back to our Armory was a pair of Military Steiner binoculars, desert color, and with a reticle for adjusting artillery and such.

One of our soldiers was assigned, or maybe took it upon himself to always be out and about, wearing all his warfighting gear, locked and loaded, as a sort of immediate response protector. He did this even when we had little threat of any danger. He carried a Steiner binoc, and if that is the set that never made it all the way home, as far as I was concerned, he earned it for always being fully geared up no matter the temp or the weather.

I had turned in my 45 to our armorer as soon as the Main Body arrived, as it was just too hard to keep it from rusting in all the rain and such.

All the best... NAM VET
 
What a difference from when I DROS'ed from Vietnam; no one ever searched my little gym bag. I could have brought back my Grease Gun and some Claymores.

We were told leaving Viet Nam if we had anything that we shouldn't have, to go and put it in a barrel that was in another room, so no one could see what was put in it. One guy went just to look in the barrel and there were some weapons, torn down, including a M16, in the barrel.

They stressed, we could not have any flammables, which included lighter fluid and Brasso. There was hundreds of cans of both, in boxes. That's funny, because we were never told that, carrying them both over.

Time to leave and no one inspected anything! Just a scare tactic.
 
the "inspection" was done by army MP's with their search dogs. And yes, there was a big box in a more private location, for disposal of items troopers decided to not attempt to take back home, firearms and explosives. It was placed well away and before we entered the big tent, and began to unpack our stuff. I don't think the military had any interest in soldiers who thought better of something wrong, and discarded whatever it was they were considering keeping.

A couple of our troops looked in the contraband box out of curiosity, and remarked how full it was with weapons and such.

What a difference from when I DROS'ed from Vietnam; no one ever searched my little gym bag. I could have brought back my Grease Gun and some Claymores.

As for my own EVAC, so far as I know, the only "sensitive" item that never made it back to our Armory was a pair of Military Steiner binoculars, desert color, and with a reticle for adjusting artillery and such.

One of our soldiers was assigned, or maybe took it upon himself to always be out and about, wearing all his warfighting gear, locked and loaded, as a sort of immediate response protector. He did this even when we had little threat of any danger. He carried a Steiner binoc, and if that is the set that never made it all the way home, as far as I was concerned, he earned it for always being fully geared up no matter the temp or the weather.

I had turned in my 45 to our armorer as soon as the Main Body arrived, as it was just too hard to keep it from rusting in all the rain and such.

All the best... NAM VET

Another memory:

Left Vietnam the second time when my mother passed away suddenly. Emergency leave status, priority transportation, expedited out-processing, get the boy home for his mom's funeral. Less than 90 days to go on that tour so I would not be required to come back.

Came out of the field in filthy jungle fatigue uniform, mud up to my crotch, carrying my rucksack. Turned in my rifle and pistol at the unit HQ, signed some papers, got on a helicopter. Unit supply sergeant later boxed up my stuff and mailed it to my home address.

33 hours or so, Cam Ranh Bay to Yokota AFB Japan, then on to Anchorage, finally arriving at McChord AFB next to Fort Lewis, Washington. Everyone else was in khakis or Class A uniforms, I'm wondering around leaving stains anywhere I stopped or sat down. Dug around in my rucksack for something, realized that I had two claymore mines, a box of detonating caps, couple of clackers (detonators), and a half-dozen frag grenades. Pretty much standard load in the field.

Found a USAF Security Police patrol, explained my status and that I had some stuff that should probably be turned in. Taken to the duty officer, a nice young lieutenant, showed him what I had. About an hour later the EOD (explosive ordnance disposal) team showed up and relieved me of further responsibility. I had the presence of mind to request a receipt, which was given.

Few hours later I climbed on a USAF C141 for non-stop flight to Dover AFB, Delaware. No charge for the flight, but I think I had to pay about 75 cents for the box lunch. Arrived at Dover AFB where they off-loaded the cargo of coffins (KIA soldiers to be processed for return to families). Caught a taxi to the local Greyhound station, then on to Richmond, Virginia, one day ahead of Mom's funeral service.

Cousin took me to the local JC Penney where I bought a sport coat, shirt, and pair of slacks to wear to Mom's funeral service. Said goodbye to my brothers, then on to Newport News, Virginia where my wife waited with my 9 month old first child, born about 2 weeks after I left for Vietnam. Cab driver who took me home from the bus station was a veteran, refused to take my money for the fare.

Other times, other places.
 
I was going to tell a stilly story about an extra M9 mag and rounds I picked up during DS, and the headache it caused trying to turn it in, but my story can’t compare to the serious stuff you guys experienced. We’re all older man now and war stories are what we have to remind us of our younger days. God bless all our veterans here and thanks for your service.
 
When we began to prep for our return stateside, of course our kitchen team had to also start cleaning and packing up their cooking equipment. Which meant that other than some snacks, we went back on MRE's. I was fine with them; there wasn't any meal I couldn't tolerate. Plus, if we put the inner meal bag in the now blazing sun the meal would be almost too hot to eat.

Of course, there was a lot of trading just as we walked thru the meal line to pick up a MRE out of the box. I recall that each pack had a little bag of Skittles, but unlike the boxed C Rations of long before, no little boxes with four Lucky Strike cigarets.

Our military has always been renowned for the inventiveness and resourcefulness of our troops. Thus, some enterprising mess team, I heard the lead was some trooper named Wolf, set up a hamburger/cheeseburger/hotdog stand at the airfield next to our big inspection tent. Free of course, with whatever carbonated drink we wanted. There was a no alcohol policy in SA, partly in deference to the Saudi government prohibition of alcohol, per their religious beliefs. I never heard of any illicit alcohol during my in-country time.

Here, in our just issued sets of Chocolate Chip camo, so iconic in pictures of that war. Our commander managed to source two sets for each of us, and gave them to us just as we loaded up. Not being a combat unit, we did not warrant issue of the then fashionable CC camo. Actually they were very hot, not being the lightweight rip-stop fabric or a thinner fabric. Our Woodland camo BDU's were a lot more comfortable. But of course, we wanted to actually look the part of returning war veterans. I still have my two suits, and boots, and my boonie hat, which I actually wear often.

We were just pumped and excited, too much to sleep, and relishing American burgers. I still think a grilled burger, done right, is as good as any steak.

Our CO had sent back before our little Advance Party an orthopedic surgery resident, in his CC camo, to continue his stateside training. He had helped with lots of procedures, including some amputations, so no doubt had plenty of War Stories to tell his fellow residents.

USA, here we come!

All the best, NAM VET
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SF VET, thanks for this thread. I've posted some stories and a few pics from my time in the service. No one has seen them until now, not even my wife. Most people are not interested in what happened 50 some years ago. It's been 54 years and most of the stuff is still very vivid.

Leaving Chu Lai in '68, we were not inspected for anything until we hit the air base in San Bernadino. The Air Force went through everything looking for weapons and pot. It seems a lot of guys were bring the good stuff back.

You can see what happens when incoming is accurate. The hot pad planes took a direct hit. The heat from them buring was intense. We were in a bunker just outside the hangar which was close to the flight line. We had one rocket of many that did not explode. It landed about 50 feet from the hangar. You can see from all the foot prints from everyone who took a look. The EOD guys got there and set up a perimeter around the rocket. Then the rookie LCpl had to take it apart after instructions from the gunney who first looked at the rocket. They disarmed the rocket and took the pieces with them.
 

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I had been on the first Advance Party, I think it was only about 12 or so of us. But others had trickled in to SA via the port of Dahran and found their way out to our desert hospital site. I had been placed in charge of the first group of our hospital to return Stateside, with maybe 30 or so troops, selected by our hospital command for an assortment of reasons, I think mostly because they had come over before the main body had arrived. There were a few other physicians and others who were more needed at their stateside jobs than cleaning canvas in the desert.

We continued our journey from Ft. Jackson in SC, ironically about an hour from where we live now near Charlotte, to Topeka, our home site, and where I then lived and were immediately bussed the 100 miles west back to Ft, Riley, KS, where we turned in our issued gear, our helmets and web gear and sleeping bags and such. I suspect the army did not clean our sleeping bags, but more likely burned them. I had slept in or on mine for six months.

We were met by an administrative soldier who told us that we were about a week or so from a full six months of our activation, and since the army gave Reservists (and National Guard troops) some additional benefits for being called up for six or more months, we were not going to be released just yet. I don't recall what the benefit to us was, perhaps some sort of long term health care, or ultimate retirement "points" or the like. But he told us we were free to go home, just to be careful and not fall asleep and die in an accident, since we had been up for some near 72 hours, and that we would be contacted when we were to report back to our home station.

So I called my wife, who drove out and to Riley and picked me up, and I was home in a few hours. The next day my daughter graduated from high school, so I made that by about 12 hours, and was there to see her be awarded Outstanding Female Senior. You bet I was proud.

It was about ten days or two weeks before my EVAC's personnel returned home. More about that later.

I took a month off before returning to my 5 physician private practice. I stayed home in Topeka until my EVAC flew home then my family took a week out to Colorado, up in the mountains, and Denver, where I had done my residency and fellowship 12 years prior, and where our son had been born.

It was great to be home, but it took some time before I was able to slow the velocity of my life. I was impatient, having had to be so in the Desert. For instance, if we were in a restaurant and needed say salt and pepper or more napkins, instead of waiting for our waitress to stop by, I would just get up and go back into the kitchen and find it, not being able to wait just a few minutes. Once, my son and I were having breakfast at a motel, and when the waitress had not immediately brought out our meal, I went back into the kitchen and started cooking our eggs myself. For six months, I had needed to act with immediacy and speed, and wait for no one, and my family kept telling me to relax and slow down.

I was headline news when I came back, front page pictures of me with my family, and I gave slide shows and lectures to our local hospital staff and the like, and I think my practice partners were jealous of my short-lived fame. They had not treated my wife well in my absence, and my relationship with my partners was never really able to be one of trust until we moved to SC five years later. It was only when I walked out the last time, that our practice manger, a woman, told me confidentially that in my absence, they had been deceitful with my share of the economics of the practice.

Today is September 11th, my son's birthday, and ever since that awful day 20 years ago, he has told me how sad it is to have a birthday on the day of such death. But we are all going to a white water center today and will have a great time. Last nite there was a special on Flight 93, and I just couldn't watch it; it just fills me with pain and anger to relive that attack on my beloved United States.

Here, we are back at Riley, turning in our gear, and soon to be home.

All the best... SF VET
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