Snubby in Vietnam

[SF VET]

Been a bit over two years at our new home, Lexington, SC, near Columbia. I has been just the best experience ever, lots of new shooter friends, some of whom I have helped to shoot and earn their CWP's, and most of all, the time we have now with our son and his wife, and their now 7 and 10 year old sons. just great kids; we share all sorts of wonderful experiences. And both lads now shoot well, the older really likes shooting my M1 Carbine too. No pistols yet, just their youth stocked 22 rifles.

But thought I would revive this dormant thread, and am startting with this picture of a patrol in IV Corps, way south in Vietnam. I was a MACV Captain, working with one NCo, for a year. I am not in this picture, but but shot it on Kodachrome 25 with my Asahi Pentax 35 mm.

I hope other veterans of our Country's wars will pick this up again, and relate again their own experiences and memories.

All the best, SF VET

 

[HOGSTR]

Glad to see you back and scanning! This has been one of the most interesting threads all time on this forum. Keep them coming!

 

[SF VET]

Monsoon, or the Wet Season

Rain. And more rain... Deep in the Delta, not far from the South China Sea, our small four sided outpost had a command bunker in the center. It was draped in woven barbed wire, as a deterrent against RPG's, built with sandbags and a metal roof. SFC Tom C and I were there often, seeing what was supposedly going on in our AO, along the Song Ong Doc small river. Maps on the wall, the Vietnamese on their radios. As I have mentioned, their radio security was unbelieveably bad. Every Vietnamese RTO just talked constantly on their sets. They never stopped talking. I didn't understand Vietnamese well enough to understand what they were always talking about, but surely it was enough to use up their batteries in no time. Even when things were quiet in our AO, they talked constantly. It was an astounding lack of radio discipline. Of course, Chuck was always listening in with their captured radios.

Any way, we had two seasons, and the wet one was daily heavy rains. Slippery mud everywhere, although it gave us plenty of water for our 55 gallon drums mounted on our hootch's roof for our shouwers and such. It was never chilly, so when it was pouring down, we would strip down to just our pants, and be out moving the gutters to fill our drums. But as soon as the morning rain quit, and the sun came out, in about two hours the mud was dry and hard. Amazing to this Nebraska boy. Our metal roof had a lot of holes and rips, so our "home" was often wet and damp and moldy for weeks and weeks.

in the dry season, with no fresh rain water for weeks and weeks, we would take some plastic buckets to our Boston Whaler, and run up river a bit, to a place with a well, and bring back brackish, cloudy and foul smelling water for our basic needs. Didn't take too many showers.

To me, the rain was a welcome thing:, plenty of clear clean water and I could rinse and "shower" by just being outside for a few minutes.

All the best... SF VET

 

[SF VET]

Here a few weeks or a month before when the garrison was building and then weaving the barb wire around the CP. On top was a wooden platform with a fifty cal MG mounted. All over the inside of the very small compound, maybe 50 yards on a side, were these metal stakes with barb wire making paths across from one side to the other. So that if we were over-run, in the night the bad guys could not just run amok all over. Was necessary to weave your way this way and that to move around the inside of our small compound. SF VET

 

[LoboGunLeather]

Rain. And more rain... Deep in the Delta, not far from the South China Sea, our small four sided outpost had a command bunker in the center. It was draped in woven barbed wire, as a deterrent against RPG's, built with sandbags and a metal roof. SFC Tom C and I were there often, seeing what was supposedly going on in our AO, along the Song Ong Doc small river. Maps on the wall, the Vietnamese on their radios. As I have mentioned, their radio security was unbelieveably bad. Every Vietnamese RTO just talked constantly on their sets. They never stopped talking. I didn't understand Vietnamese well enough to understand what they were always talking about, but surely it was enough to use up their batteries in no time. Even when things were quiet in our AO, they talked constantly. It was an astounding lack of radio discipline. Of course, Chuck was always listening in with their captured radios.

Any way, we had two seasons, and the wet one was daily heavy rains. Slippery mud everywhere, although it gave us plenty of water for our 55 gallon drums mounted on our hootch's roof for our shouwers and such. It was never chilly, so when it was pouring down, we would strip down to just our pants, and be out moving the gutters to fill our drums. But as soon as the morning rain quit, and the sun came out, in about two hours the mud was dry and hard. Amazing to this Nebraska boy. Our metal roof had a lot of holes and rips, so our "home" was often wet and damp and moldy for weeks and weeks.

in the dry season, with no fresh rain water for weeks and weeks, we would take some plastic buckets to our Boston Whaler, and run up river a bit, to a place with a well, and bring back brackish, cloudy and foul smelling water for our basic needs. Didn't take too many showers.

To me, the rain was a welcome thing:, plenty of clear clean water and I could rinse and "shower" by just being outside for a few minutes.

All the best... SF VET

Ah, monsoon season! So many memories, and none of them very good.

For those who have not shared the experience, monsoon rains are not like anything else. The rains do not simply start and stop or ebb and flow, it is a constant for weeks at a time. Here in North America we like to measure and report precipitation in inches; I'm not at all sure that is even possible in a Southeast Asia monsoon season.

Water does not simply fall in drops, the deluge arrives in waves. Not unlike being struck by a dozen fire hoses dumping straight down on you. When out in the bush seeking high ground is not a choice for comfort, it is a matter of survival. Travelling in a group can require each person holding on to the person ahead (it is usually impossible to see more than a few yards ahead) and hoping that someone knows where he is leading us.

Ponchos are essentially useless during a monsoon storm. You will be soaked to the bone for the duration, frequently days at a time in the field. Temperatures may hover in the 60s during daylight hours, then drop below 50F overnight. Hypothermia is a very real threat. Cold C-rations eaten from the cans as they flooded with water, no coffee or cocoa to choke it down.

Returning from several days on an operation sometimes meant simply stripping off all clothing and throwing it in the burn pit, beyond salvaging with rot and fungal growth. Taking off your socks can pull much of the skin off your toes and feet. Infected rashes in the armpits, around the neck, and in the crotch might take a week or more of constant treatment for any hope of recovery. Affectionately known as "jungle rot". Many guys required evacuation for hospital treatment.

As the unit operations NCO there were weeks at a time when my ORR (Operational Readiness Reports) approached 50% "combat ineffective". Those still capable of some duties could be limited to perimeter security manning bunkers instead of participating in patrols.

Frequently all air operations were shut down for days at a time, so resupply and mail call might be nonexistent for the duration.

Individual and unit morale deteriorated as a result. Minor disagreements turned into fist fights. Discipline disappeared. Some guys simply withdrew mentally to a point of zero function, especially those with troubles "back in the World" with family or relationships.

Monsoon was not an event, it was an interminable period of suffering with no end in sight.

There should have been special awards in addition to the Vietnam Service Medal and Vietnam Campaign Medal to denote Monsoon 1969, Monsoon 1970, Monsoon 1971.

Enough for today.

 

[mckenney99]

"There should have been special awards in addition to the Vietnam Service Medal and Vietnam Campaign Medal to denote Monsoon 1969, Monsoon 1970, Monsoon 1971."

How about a Muddy Footprint Device for the Vietnam Service Ribbon for those who served "in the field" and saw action during an active monsoon season.

 

[fordson]

Welcome back SF VET. Been a while. I did see you occasionally on the 1911 forum…… good to see you here again.

 

[SF VET]

Home sweet Home....

Just sitting here while sorta watching some NFL, not that I care much about them. Looking over some of the pics I have scanned, and I am sure I put this on on this forum several years ago. But I just look at all that filth, our latrine with the pee tube running down to the inside moat, the water barrels on the roof, the ragged ladder, our propane tank for our 'fridge and stove. The smells, the muck, the huge rats waddling around, too gorged with rice to move very quickly. I used to just punt them when I was walking about.

But I have happy memories of my second six months, no one cared about what I was doing, no one telling me how to do my job, no longer any wife to write to. An occasional Beer 33, poured over river ice, watching the debris in the ice settle to the bottom of my grimy glass. I was working on my correspondence Chemistry course, for an eventual return to college.

When I sometimes visited a US chopper base, I couldn't believe they lived in such god forsaken awful places. I wondered why they didn't fix up their "homes" and lived in such filth and wretchedness. While my own home was so much nicer, so comfortable, just a nice place to be. And now when I look at this picture, I too lived in a 3d or 4th world hovel. Perhaps, because I didi not have to meet anybody's expectations, just mine own.

All the best... SF VET
[url=https://postimg.cc/VJZ8cnt1] [/url]

 

[LoboGunLeather]

Just sitting here while sorta watching some NFL, not that I care much about them. Looking over some of the pics I have scanned, and I am sure I put this on on this forum several years ago. But I just look at all that filth, our latrine with the pee tube running down to the inside moat, the water barrels on the roof, the ragged ladder, our propane tank for our 'fridge and stove. The smells, the muck, the huge rats waddling around, too gorged with rice to move very quickly. I used to just punt them when I was walking about.

But I have happy memories of my second six months, no one cared about what I was doing, no one telling me how to do my job, no longer any wife to write to. An occasional Beer 33, poured over river ice, watching the debris in the ice settle to the bottom of my grimy glass. I was working on my correspondence Chemistry course, for an eventual return to college.

When I sometimes visited a US chopper base, I couldn't believe they lived in such god forsaken awful places. I wondered why they didn't fix up their "homes" and lived in such filth and wretchedness. While my own home was so much nicer, so comfortable, just a nice place to be. And now when I look at this picture, I too lived in a 3d or 4th world hovel. Perhaps, because I didi not have to meet anybody's expectations, just mine own.

All the best... SF VET
[url=https://postimg.cc/VJZ8cnt1] [/url]

Another good post and great photos of the period.

I also spent a lot of time doing correspondence coursework through the US Army education center, college-level programs offered by accredited universities with examinations conducted in base camp areas. Picked up a couple of years credits along the way, mostly general studies in the undergraduate level. All free for any serviceman who wished to participate anywhere in the world so I saw no reason not to take advantage while I had plenty of time to kill.

I have no good explanation why those of us living on outlying bases continued to live in holes in the ground with sandbags as the basic building material. Perhaps it was because everything was perceived to be a temporary situation, 365 days in length to be endured before resuming a real life "back in the World". For too many young men it was an excuse to drop out completely into the world of marijuana, opium, heroin, and other diversions from reality (all too common during those times). Probably about as explanations as there are old guys reminiscing about the times.

I have probably said it before, but it is worth keeping in mind. The typical US soldier in Vietnam was 18 to 20 years old, and many were draftees dragged away from civilian life for a couple of years with no great hopes of a future career of any kind. Some were 20 to 23 years old, having used up their college exemptions as long as they could, then being dropped into the mix for a couple of years before they could continue a normal life. Many of our junior officers were 20 to 24, recent college graduates who recognized that a couple of years service as an officer might be better than joining the enlisted ranks. Many of our warrant officer pilots flying the helicopters were not old enough to vote or order a beer in a public bar.

Many of our leaders, both NCOs and officers, were veterans of Korea and World War 2, coming close to 20 years for a basic retirement or even 30 years for the full pension plan. Not all of them were happy with the modern Army, the caliber of new recruits, etc. My overall impression after many years is that there were a lot of senior people just hanging on without any great hope beyond retirement.

This was not an existential struggle, like World War 2. No plans for winning, just hanging on while the lace-pants crowd managed a deal in Paris to end the conflict, with brief periods of politicians demanding this, that, or the other.

For the most part, babies leading babies. I was a sergeant responsible for a dozen people before I was 19 years old, and came home after the second tour before I was 21 years old.

My thoughts, worth what you take from them.

Best regards.

 

[SF VET]

Dust Storms

I was in the Reserves, in Topeka, 410 EVAC hospital. When I saw on the news that President Bush was sending 3 more divisions to Saudi Arabia to repel the Iraqui from Kuwait, I told my wife I needed to get my own military gear ready. We were activated a few days later, and after about 3 weeks at Ft. Riley, KS, where I had been for my ROTC summer camp, summer of 68, Christmas Eve our Hospital Commander told me I was leaving in a few hours as part of our 15 troop advance party. So was soon 300 miles out in the absolutely flat desert, on Tap Line road, a few miles from the SA and Kuwait border.

For the first month or so, it was cold and wet and rainy, as our little group worked to set up our tents and ready our site for the later arrival of our 400 troop EVAC, about half female. They arrived maybe two weeks before the Ground War began. We were up and ready, and by our return to CONUS 5 months later, we had just over 35 Thousand patient encounters. More than any other hospital unit in that War. I was Chief of Professional Services, meaning the 26 physicians were under my guidance.

By the time the main party arrived, it was still cold at night, but the wet season was giving way to the soon-to-be hot and dry season. When those months came, sometimes these great towering dust storms would arise, and we could see huge brown walls of storms bearing down on us. I never knew what strange weather patterns could make such storms just blow-up so suddenly. But we would race to cover what we could, close up our tent flaps, & be sure we had our issued face breathing rags and goggles. Here is a Kodachrome of such a storm. The second picture is of two of our Captain female nurses, out by the hot water mess cans. Which by the way, with their dripping fuel into the burners were very dangerous, and one of our cooks had been burned to death a few years previously at one of our "summer camp" training cycles.

And Merrry Christmas to all of you!

SF VET