Snubby in Vietnam

Still rambling on here. Beer seems to stimulate my memory cells.[/QUOTE]

Seems like I remember that beer was 20 cents a can and cigarettes about 15 cents per pack when I was in Chu Lai.
My unit was an A4 Squadron VMA 211. We had M16 then
and as an E4 I did not get to carry a 45. Our Staff NCO's
got to carry handguns. Most of the time I got to eat at the
mess hall, but I remember monsoon rains, and that the
potatoes had bugs in them. I no longer drink beer or alcohol and I wish I had all the money I wasted on cigarettes and beer
over the years.
 
Still rambling on here. Beer seems to stimulate my memory cells.

Seems like I remember that beer was 20 cents a can and cigarettes about 15 cents per pack when I was in Chu Lai.
My unit was an A4 Squadron VMA 211. We had M16 then
and as an E4 I did not get to carry a 45. Our Staff NCO's
got to carry handguns. Most of the time I got to eat at the
mess hall, but I remember monsoon rains, and that the
potatoes had bugs in them. I no longer drink beer or alcohol and I wish I had all the money I wasted on cigarettes and beer
over the years.[/QUOTE]

My recollection is that beer was $2.40 per case at the Class VI stores, 25 cents each at the EM or NCO clubs. Cigarettes were $1.70 per carton at the PX until about 1970 when they went up to $1.90 per carton. Each C-ration meal contained a package of 4 cigarettes, no choice of brand and freshness not guaranteed (or very likely).

My first tour was in an Army aviation unit located on a Marine air base (Marble Mountain, near Da Nang), and I learned the differences between Army mess halls and Marine/Navy facilities. The Army drew rations based on a the number of people eating each meal (a sign-in record was kept, known as the "head count"). Navy and Marines drew rations based upon assigned strength of the unit, and it showed in the quantities and varieties in the meals. I always took the opportunity for a meal in a Navy or Marine mess whenever I could, much better food and much more of it.

The Navy facility at China Beach had a truly outstanding dining facility. Every meal offered a choice of 2 or 3 entrees, variety of potatoes and vegetables, several deserts, fresh bread, fresh milk, fruit juices, salads. Unfortunately, I had little official business to take me there.
 
Where did the bullet go?

Here, four of our physicians, all surgeons, discussing some patient care problem or solution. Or maybe just deciding who would go for coffee. Early in the war, wearing warm clothing even in our hospital.

The second from left, in sweatshirt, was an active duty pediatric surgeon from San Antonio, assigned to our hospital. The older gent far right, a general surgeon from a smaller KS town, part of our stateside staff. The one far left had brought his own Beretta pistol, something not permitted. All of us officers were issued old 1911 .45's, if we wanted them. Our hospital commander made him turn his personal pistol in to our armory for the duration of the war.

The pediatric surgeon published soon after we returned Stateside an article about 8 or 9 cases of "traveling bullets" in patients. Not unheard of in gun shot wounds, where a bullet would enter a person's body in one place, and end up far away in some other place. Usually, the bullet would enter some larger blood vessel, a low pressure vein, and then migrate with blood flow way down into a leg or some other distant place. So if there was no exit wound, the rest of the patient would be Xray'ed to find the projectile. Some of his cases were in children. I have about 5 reprints of his medial journal article.

Troy and I sat in vehicles a few times for hours, waiting somewhere for some reason, and shared our prior life experiences. He had just gotten married, which I think disappointed some of our female nurses.

Our medical staff, physicians, nurses, and our ancillary medical staff performed magnificently. One of our MD's was a senior med surgical resident back stateside, and after assisting in some amputations, was then qualified to perform them by himself when we were busy.

Truly, the 410 EVAC was a "well oiled machine", and was perhaps why we were the last front line hospital to be shut down.

All the best.... SF VET
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When I reflect on my time in this war of 30 years ago, some of my warmest memories are of our meal times. I think we all felt we were doing something really important, and profoundly personally rewarding. Dinner was the best time of the day. A time for sitting down with friends and comrades, for talk of home, our day, what might come tomorrow, and perhaps listening to a friend confide in something personal.

I think for some, "...what happens in the Desert stayed in the Desert."

We did not have the Chocolate Chip cammo uniforms so photogenic in Desert Storm, but sorta wished we too could look like the troops on TV back home. Unknown to us, our Commander secretly obtained two sets of the Chocolate Chip uniforms, hats, hot weather boots and all for each of us. If a trooper needed to return home for some family reason, he or she was issued two sets, so they could fly back looking like a Desert Storm Veteran. Ours were heavy cotton, and our CO also sourced a supply of name tags and subdued rank insignia, and as a gesture of friendship, the RN's sewed them onto our new cammo uniforms. I still have my two sets carefully put away.

The army soon found that particular cammo pattern was actually very unsuited for desert concealment, as nothing is Black in the desert. Since then, the army has fielded a number of different cammo patterns.

The second trooper in line for dinner was one of several SA army interpreters assigned to us. Several of our own US troops were fluent in Farsi language too. I remember the female with glasses and in Chocolate Chip, (who wouldn't), and I suspect she was about to return Stateside for some reason.

Time for another cup of morning coffee, and a Danish.

All the best.... SF VET
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It was amazing how quickly massive dust/sand storms would blow over us. We could usually sense and see them coming, towering dark swirling brownish clouds reaching way up into the sky. We had to get used to grit every where. I kept my trusty Pentax in a plastic bag, just like I had done 20 years before in Vietnam, there for water, here for sand and dust and grit.

The African and Arabian countries have unique names for the sand storms, often used for cars. Sirrocco, Khamsin, and others I can't recall. I just called them Miserable.

Our kitchen couldn't serve meals when the sand storms rolled over us, although they did not usually last too long. We were issued goggles, and kept them with us when away from our compound.

Just another day at the office,......

All the best.... SF VET
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When looking at this pic, I just don't recall that our laundry did our personal laundry. We did for a lot of people, and our hospital linen, but as far as I can recall, it was up to us to wash our own clothing. Each of us was issued a plastic wash basin, and we had of course army issue laundry soap. This pic is over in our water/laundry area, showing also how big our compound was. These water "tanks" were filled up like giant tubs, and then used for our non-potable water. One day, I walked over to the area, and found about five of our staff, all physicians, lying back in one like a big hot tub! I was jealous, but had to tell then it was time to climb out. I am the chap looking at the camera. We consumed huge quantities of water, hospitals just do.

Later, when things were less busy, our laundry and hot water team set up a big tent for showers. Males on odd days, females on even or something like that. One eve, I walked over and into our bath tent, and stood stunned to see the tent was full of female troops showering, toweling off, and such. I was transfixed, and for some long seconds just stood there, having forgotten what day it was. Funny thing was, the undressed females looked over at me and paid me no attention at all, just as if I wasn't even there.

I turned around and left, of course. But field conditions in the military necessity accommodations for modesty.

Months earlier, I and and another officer on the advance party were driving one cold and windy eve, and ran across an abandoned HQ site, where some US unit had bivouacked for a period, then moved on. But left standing their showers, so not having had a shower for over a week, we both stripped down and showered with icy water in the cold biting wind, shivering but just glad to be clean for awhile.

All the best... SF VET
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I like this pic. Must have been shot when things were just a bit less busy. Illustrates the differing "uniform" of being on duty, and off one's duty station. Note one trooper with his decontamination kit taped to his leg, bottom down. I am pretty sure my own was taped to my H harness, up high, left side, where I could reach it if necessary. We had practiced putting our M17's on and pulling the hood over our heads. By then I was in bifocals, so the army issued me prescription inserts, which I clipped into my own mask. An expensive set-up no doubt. I still have the inserts.

In fact, up stairs I have my army footlocker full of items from my second War, even a short length of concertina from our protective wire. My daily briefing book, issued bible in Desert Camo. Plus about six T shirts in various sizes.

Our commander arranged for us to order from a SA vendor in a town not too far away custom T shirts. We chose the Hard Rock Cafe sign, then below it our location in Arabic. Someday my grandkids will pull them out, and wonder what they could be. Note one of them in the pic.

One trooper, perhaps coming off guard duty has his harness dropped off his shoulder. The female is one of about 200 in our EVAC. Of course, the water bottles we drank by the countless thousands.

Like all military units, Sunday was just another day for us, in fact, often we didn't have any idea what day it actually was; the slogan "24/7" really did apply to us.

The best memory of pics like this is the friendship and camaraderie of our troops.

I think if there was simmering discontent in our unit, I would have been aware of it.

All the best... SF VET
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thus far, as regards my pics from Desert Storm, I have attempted to post them in some chronological order. But sometimes I just see one on my computer and reflect, and post it way out of sequence, like this one.

I had gone over with a small advance party on Christmas Eve, and over the next 6 weeks or so, others from our EVAC had trickled in, arriving at Dahran, then finding a way to us 300 miles away.

Our mission was of course to begin our hospital's construction, and also put up tents for things like our residence tents for the 350 or so others who would eventually arrive. Plus our kitchen, and tents for other important tasks.

The Air War was in full progress, and we all knew that sooner or later, the Ground War would begin. The army's logisticians eventually put the remainder of our hospital's personnel on airforce cargo jets (my little first group had come over in the small troop compartment in the upper deck of a C5A.)

When the rest of our unit arrived in Daharan, for a couple of days they were billeted in Kohbar towers, the same big apartment complex I had stayed in for a week or so when I arrived. A few years later, one of the towers was blown up by terrorists, with about 30 or so US KIA.

Our personal "luggage" was limited to what we wore, two duffle bags, and our rucksack. I had bought a large army ruck before I left. Much of our space was taken up by our two issued chemical protective suits.

It is obvious in this pic that prior to leaving Ft Riley, KS, our troops had painted and then stenciled their info on the bottom of their duffles.

As it happened, when they were passing their duffel up the stairs at the Towers, another unit was passing theirs down, and one of our officers had his duffle sent down and forever lost. I was sure it would show up eventually, but it never did, and the rest of us shared what we had so he had at least more than what he wore over.

From the looks of the sand, it was beginning to be the hot summer season.

I was used to living in the desert by then.

All the best. SF VET
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...(my little first group had come over in the small troop compartment in the upper deck of a C5A.)

Spent 17 hours in the 72 airline seats up there when I got shanghaied for an MTT once. Six weeks later, we did it all over again. (There was a lot of airspace we couldn't use, and we weren't there anyway.)



I was used to living in the desert by then.

Do you really get used to living in the desert? I think of deserts like I do jungles. You can get acclimated to them, but you don't really get used to them.

Sent with some arcane communications device.
 
Was down at the Beach for about two weeks. Drove my 1952 Army 3/4 ton M37 Weapons' carrier the 250 miles, on the back roads. Epic, took about 8 hours thru the forests and fields and tiny SC towns. Had the 30 cal on the pedestal in the bed, under a canvas cover. While there, did a C&C, always popular with so many kids and parents having fun with the gun. I have the ammo box and a belt of 30-06.

Here is a pic of an OH 58 with a laser targeting acquisition and guidance system on top. In theory, the helicopter could "hide' in defilade, and aim and direct missiles from attack 'choppers at armor and other targets. I don't see these only more, it was 30 years ago. I am the guy in the flight helmet with my trusty Pentax. I had requested a chopper to take me up for some pics of our compound, earlier posted, and I have others I may put up later.

Like many things in life, it is all about who you know. I got around pretty well there.

All the best... SF VET
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Back nearly a half century. Here, a look back at deep in the Delta , only a few KM from the South China sea. All these once and surely again productive rice fields, fallow and untended. Some families still labored in their fields, just trying to stay alive between two hostile forces. I suspect they were in subsistence cultivation, I doubt they had a way to get their crops to market.

This is of course an M60, just a great, long serving 7.62 MG. I once on a range held the trigger down on a long belt, until the barrel slowly began to glow a dull red, and then get almost white hot, with the tracers igniting in the barrel, greatly increasing the muzzle flash.

My Asahi Pentax Spotmatic, in the US a Honeywell, had match-needle metering, like just about all the 35mm SLR's of the time, so taking a picture required some manipulation of focus and metering, and composure. My PACEX catalogue "kit" included a 55mm 1.4 and a 28MM, with little leather cases for every thing.

I used that little camera on my overseas travels, and even parachuted with it. Served me well in Desert Storm too. Every little ding and dent and scratch has a story. Learning to shoot with Kodachrome with an ASA of 25 was a learning experience.

Most District teams had their own M60's, and my first post relates how one team used theirs to save them selves when their team compound was over-run. My 2 and 3 man team did not have any of our own, just our M16's and an assortment of sub-machine guns. Our compound had air cooled 30 cal guns scattered around the berm's bunkers. I have a de-milled one on my 1952 army 3/4 ton Weapons' carrier, but only put it on for shows and the like.

But the M60 has served our military since the early '60's, and I am sure many are still serving some where. They fired from an "open-bolt", ie, when the trigger is pulled the bolt moves to chamber the round. Otherwise, if a round is held in a hot chamber, the gun will just fire and run away.

Another great MG is the legendary 50 cal. I still have my headspace and timing gage in its little canvas case from when I was a Platoon leader in Germany with five M 113's each with a top 50. It was my responsibility to climb up and set the timing with the little wheel behind the back plate and then screw the barrel in with the head space gage inserted between barrel and receiver. I remember that the effective range of the 50 cal was 1100 meters, as that was "tracer burn-out" range. Of course, the 550 grain bullet was effective far beyond that.

Well, enough memory for today, time for crawling under my truck to replace two leaking seals on the PTO for the winch.

All the best.... SF VET
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If you are not familiar with how military, at least army units are organized, this is how they operate. I suspect for the army at least it has been this way for many years, perhaps being formalized during the Spanish American war of '98. At some unit size, mission needs begin to require individual areas of responsibility. In the Army it begins at Battalion level. A typical Battalion has four major administrative subcommands, in addition to "maneuver" companies, which are further broken down into platoons, and then squads. Battalions are collected together into Brigades, and those into Divisions, those into Corps, and Corps into "Armies." During the World Wars, and Korea, combat units were gathered together into semi-permanent Regiments, similar to later Brigades.

A "Task Force" is a temporary gathering of companies and Battations, usually for a specific mission. Some of our historic Task Forces were TF Smith, the hastily thrown together small unit thrown into battle when the North Korean's attacked. Or the TF sent behind German lines to Hammelberg in a failed attempt to liberate a POW camp. Sadly, on their way back, they stopped for a few hours, no realizing they were down range on a German Panzer tank range until dawn came.

In American history, TF's were usually were decimated in heroic attempts at some desperate mission.

Breaking down Army command structures, at the Battalion level there is S1, personnel; S2, intelligence; S3, Operation; and S4, logistics. At Division level, these are "G" groups. Everything an army command does is in one of these sub-commands, with the exception of the War Fighting units, which are under the control of the HQ group. At really high levels, sometimes there is a G5, a political command for dealing with a foreign nation's government.

Unique to Special Forces Companies is also a S1, 2, 3, 4 structure, as a SF company is capable of independent operation. For instance, as an A Team Comander, I was also the S1 of our company. When I was first assigned to my SF company upon my return from Vietnam, S1 was handled by the Sgt Major, who along with the CO was drunk on George Dickel by mid afternoon.

Later, under our new Commander, a Mormon Major, a New Sheriff In Town, he told me our company was about to undergo a big inspection, and our S1 area was a total disaster, and told me to get it ready. We soon passed with Flying Colors.

So.... Our EVAC hospital had the same four sub commands, although not called "S" this or that. Our S1, or personnel chief was a young female Captain. Here handling our mail too, passing out packages to several of our troops. She had enormous responsibilities, and I did not know until we were home later that her husband had deserted her just before we deployed. What an awful thing to have to deal with.

Mail was slow both ways. More about that later. Wherever this young Captain is, all of us owed her a lot, and I hope she found happiness and a good life. A lot of us were replaceable, but she most certainly wasn't.

I'll talk later about how mail and packages were in another post.

All the best... SF VET

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Two of the most important things for a unit's morale are their mail and their chow. The individual trooper has no control over these to very important items, and indeed, often a lower unit commander doesn't either. I think it was Napoleon who said "...an army travels on its stomach" pretty well nailed it. Cooks don't get to be hero's, but to the men and women who line up with their mess tins and canteen cups, the soldiers on the other side of the lane with their ladles and big spoons surely are.

I can just image how challenging it was for our EVAC's cooks and bakers to try to set up and maintain some semblance of taste and sanitation when they were ankle deep in mud, with rain dripping on them, and then spending long hours later cleaning, after having risen early for a breakfast. It was dangerous work, too. Many years ago, one of the cooks in my then National Guard unit at summer camp was burned to death in a gas stove explosion.

To us, our mess team were truly appreciated. "Joe" always hot and ready, cookies when they could, and always plenty for seconds. Cooks may be the butt of a lot of jokes but never to those of us who shuffled down their chow line.

No 8 or 12 hours for them.

Here, early in the rainy season, our cook team hard at their craft.

All the best... SF VET
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Lets have a party!

Our CO decided to have a big party, so some our troops set up in some of our tents music and drinks, non-alcoholic of course, and the mess team baked cookies and other snacks and others put down plywood flooring. So we did have a big party. It doesn't look like in this pic that many of our 400 personnel were there, but believe me, everybody showed up for a gala evening. It was also outside in the "cooler" evening, lots of soda pop, music, and just a great time.

Our EVAC was our own little city; we were self-contained, so to speak, and in midst of accomplishing great things our Hospital took care of its own.

And to think back it was 30 years ago now. Where has the time gone.

Finally after near 8 hours I was able to finally pull two PTO shaft seals out of my army truck's winch system. What a job. But the new ones went in in a few minutes, buttoned my truck's transmission up, and will be out on the road tomorrow. But just found a big bulge in the tread of partly worn $500 military tire. Sigh....

Put the spare on, my wife asked what was wrong, told her the front tire had a slow leak. Will wait until later to tell her I need another expensive tire. After 40 years of marriage, I have learned to tell her bad news when she is in the shower, safer for me that way.

All the best... SF VET
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What Goes Up, Must Come Down

Our eval had a number of metal "buildings" for want of a better name. Air-conditioned metal units, fortasks that needed some sort of climate control, Blood Bank, Lab, and of course our 6 Operating Rooms. Plus a few others I can't recall now. But our hospital's wards and ER were tentage. Rigid frameworks, clicked together with pins, and with frost linings (Hah!), and needed to be on pretty level surfaces, or the rigid poles wouldn't line up or connect. I still have my faithful Buck Folding Hunter with nicks on the bolsters from tapping in pins.

These were in something like 30 foot sections, and could be laid out in numerous ways, with interconnecting hallways and atriums, and such. Like a big Lego set or the like.

As the War needs lessened, the Army began to shut down hospitals, with their personnel having to clean their equipment as best they could, and package the tentage up for return Stateside, where it all would be thoroughly cleaned and inventoried and re-packaged. For all I know, it is all still in storage somewhere, just waiting.

I like to think our EVAC was the last one closed down because of our record of outstanding performance.

Here, under the control of one of our troops, some dressed in Desert Cammo are dropping one side of a ward. Everyone pitched in, even me.

All the best... SF VET
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Where did everybody go?

"..... Jeeze, I turn around for just a moment, and when I look back they were all gone....."

Actually, I am sure we all took a moment for a water break. When we all worked hard and long to put up our Hospital, we were just as enthusiastic to take it down. Before, we had a mission to do, and now, we couldn't go home until we had our EVAC all cleaned and packed up. So we hopped to it.

But it was hot now, not wet. We did not know when were were going to leave, but knew we had to get it all packed up.

I had sent our Sawtooth Viper anti-venom back up the supply chain, then when we were told to keep at least our ER open, I had to hastily send a chopper back to retrieve it.

As I sit here now in my easy chair, with a beer and some evening snacks getting ready for an evening of TV shows, I wonder how I ever had so much energy to do what was necessary. But it was 30 years ago, and now at 74 I am not as full of vigor as I was then. Plus, when you are retire, just about anything can wait 'till tomorrow. Spent the morning under my Army truck adjusting the brake band on the Transfer Case. Only needed two bandages for my cut fingers.

So all the best... SF VET
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I hope to continue to post pics and stories of my military experiences as long as the moderators permit.

Our EVAC was staffed with about 400 troops, about half male, half female. At times we had as many as perhaps a hundred others in our compound, visitors, patients, and passerby looking for a meal and a shower. We were our own little city, all we needed to be complete was pub or tavern.

But that many people produce a lot of xxxx. And there were no flush toilets, or sewers. We had to deal with not only our own waste, but that of our patients. Our CO decided that everyone from CPT on down would be on latrine duty. Scattered around our side of the compound were "four-holer's", screened, and with cut off 55 gal drums underneath. For urine, us males used pipes into gravel filled holes.

So our latrine crew pulled out the drums daily, and trucked them outside and used diesel to burn them out, which took all day, and of course, hopefully, the wind was in the right direction for this.

A hospital produces a lot of medical waste too, and I don't recall what we did with that, including amputated limbs and such. I am pretty sure we buried that somewhere outside our berm.

I was glad I was a field grade officer, and never had to pull latrine duty.

Our troops soon learned that privacy and hygiene were difficult to find in the desert. We wore our clothes day after day, as we had to do our own laundry, and sometimes the weather or time just made that difficult. I just don't remember when our laundry also did our own clothing. I didn't use that service. You would put your clothing into a mesh bag, and it was laundried that way to hopefully keep our clothing together. But sometimes the bags untied, and one physician got back his laundry all burnt up inside a charred mesh bag.

And nobody wore deodorant in the desert.

More to come. I think I will relate some of my non-wartime experiences. Next up, "Voices from the Grave."

All the best.... SF VET
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I hope to continue to post pics and stories of my military experiences as long as the moderators permit.

Our EVAC was staffed with about 400 troops, about half male, half female. At times we had as many as perhaps a hundred others in our compound, visitors, patients, and passerby looking for a meal and a shower. We were our own little city, all we needed to be complete was pub or tavern.

But that many people produce a lot of xxxx. And there were no flush toilets, or sewers. We had to deal with not only our own waste, but that of our patients. Our CO decided that everyone from CPT on down would be on latrine duty. Scattered around our side of the compound were "four-holer's", screened, and with cut off 55 gal drums underneath. For urine, us males used pipes into gravel filled holes.

So our latrine crew pulled out the drums daily, and trucked them outside and used diesel to burn them out, which took all day, and of course, hopefully, the wind was in the right direction for this.

A hospital produces a lot of medical waste too, and I don't recall what we did with that, including amputated limbs and such. I am pretty sure we buried that somewhere outside our berm.

I was glad I was a field grade officer, and never had to pull latrine duty.

Our troops soon learned that privacy and hygiene were difficult to find in the desert. We wore our clothes day after day, as we had to do our own laundry, and sometimes the weather or time just made that difficult. I just don't remember when our laundry also did our own clothing. I didn't use that service. You would put your clothing into a mesh bag, and it was laundried that way to hopefully keep our clothing together. But sometimes the bags untied, and one physician got back his laundry all burnt up inside a charred mesh bag.

And nobody wore deodorant in the desert.

More to come. I think I will relate some of my non-wartime experiences. Next up, "Voices from the Grave."

All the best.... SF VET
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Shades of Viet Nam!!!
 
Had no idea you all had to " dispose" of human waste as we did in Vietnam, figured there would have been some new chemical method. Burning xxxx was really bad detail reserved for punishment resulting in article 15, otherwise a papasan did it.

That is my recollection as well. "Poop" detail (we actually used another word) was usually done by those serving "company punishment" (Article 15 infractions). A supervisor was always required to keep poorly motivated soldiers working at the assigned tasks, a job that usually fell to junior NCOs (like yours truly). The word "unpleasant" comes to mind, but is hardly adequate to describe the experience.

As often as not, at least one serious attitude problem was displayed, absolute refusals to comply with orders were common, and situations could easily rise to the level of mutiny. As the NCO in charge it was my job to get the job done, and excuses were not much help in the Army. I frequently had to report the worst cases, requiring hours of drafting statements for the commander's decision on action. By 1969-70 there was an active aversion to any form of serious disciplinary action. No one wanted court martial actions. Unit commanders were scrutinized on every aspect of unit performance, and disciplinary actions were part of that process.

Long story shortened a bit, it was nearly impossible to enforce any level of discipline or compliance with orders because the entire command structure refused to stand behind junior officers and NCOs. Almost all incidents, including some quite serious, were swept under the rug, no action ever taken. I know of a half-dozen assaults on NCOs and officers for which no official action resulted.

Article 15 action was generally limited to relatively minor infractions. A soldier might be offered some level of company punishment in lieu of facing a court martial, but the soldier would have to agree to accept the action in order for it to take effect. Company punishments might include confinement to quarters and unit area, some loss of pay, perhaps a one-grade demotion.

As more disciplinary problems arose those involved quickly learned that they could simply refuse to accept the Article 15. With the only remaining option being a special court martial (again, closely monitored as a means of assessing unit commanders), and the most common result was NOTHING.

Complaints of unfair disciplinary action, discrimination, just about anything a soldier might dream up frequently resulted in outside attention. Family complaints to congress members usually resulted in investigations (Inspector General or Criminal Investigation Division), and occasionally the news media got involved. None of those were especially good for unit commanders or senior staff.

From time to time units would be levied for troops to be moved to other duties or assignments. We quickly learned that in-country personnel transfers were highly likely to be someone else's problem children, so whenever possible we tried to get replacements who were just arriving in
Vietnam instead of accepting the dead wood (not always possible). Reassignments due to disciplinary problems were an ongoing problem.
 
the Vietnam war came close to destroying our military. Rampant drug use, insubordination (to often stupid and incomprehensible) orders, frank refusal to do any assigned task or mission, racial tension, it was all very real. I had heard about the low morale and fraggings and such happening in Vietnam, so when I decided to Volunteer from Germany, I was sure I did not want to try to lead or command in any US unit. So made sure I was going to be an Advisor, with MACV. I had little confidence I would be able to effectively command any American troops.

When I came back from my year in-country, I was assigned to Bragg, and walked over to the SF area and found my self a job, as an A Team Leader. About the only place in the army I know of that had dedicated soldiers. And they were, although in their Unconventional Way. The kind of men who often had civilian warrants out for them, but when one has their back against the wall, absolutely men you could count on to stand with you.

After the failed attempt to rescue our Tehran embassy hostages, with the debacle in the desert, a small group of our senior generals and admirals met and after agreeing that our military was now incapable of pulling off such a mission (and in my mind, it would have had no chance of success), that it had to change.

Terrible events like the USS Forestall fire, Fire Base Mary Ann, and the like had shown that it was time. The Navy came out with their "not on my watch" mantra, and the Army began to boot out undesirable troops, and I am sure the AF did likewise.

It took time, as the morass of the Vietnam war began to fade, for our military to slowly regain its position of power and protection.

I hope we don't drift back into correctness and timidity over battle readiness.

All the best... SF VET
 
Our small unit had similar problems, but in 72 article 15's were given out almost weekly for all assorted infractions. Usually reduction in rank, confinement to company area and some reduction of pay. Had some " funny" events as well. One guy got a " dear john letter from girl friend so he got drunk and " borrowed" a V-100. Drove around bunker line at full speed until he hit a berm behind a bunker and rolled it. Messed up turret and broke the 2 Mgs in turret. IIRC, he got reduction in pay and had to pay cost of repairing the 2 Mgs. Similar even happened with our contact team in Than Son Nhut. 2 friends were involved( went through AIT with 1), some holiday weekend??? they had a little to much to drink, got 1 of their M-151's and decided to jump ammo bunkers. Heard they jumped several ok but they went wrong way on last, came down into the downward ramp. Guy in front seat went through windshield, driver broke his arm and 2 in the back were thrown about 30'. Lucky the 2 in back were " limp" and didn't get anything but scrapes and bruises. Forget what they told the NCOIC but nothing happened except having to go to 3rd Field Hospital. Not sure what they told them. Then there was a huge fight at our NCO club between 2 different units. 4 of us were sitting there " enjoying" the LN band and drinking our 3.2 when we a common line of cursing followed by a table flying through the air landing on another table and its occupants. Chairs followed and it was clear a " knock down drag out" had started. Told my buddies come on lets get the out of here. Got down on all fours and started for the front door. Passing the bar I looked up to see the MA standing there laughing his head off, kept going. Once outside we all went across the road to our company area , got a few cold San Miguels from out motor Sgt( best NCO I ever saw) and watched as the MPs arrived. Back door of club was off the ground about 10'-12' with wooden steps going down to the urinal cut off 55 gal drums. Keep in mind that the content from urinals had run out about 6'-8' from cut off drums. Some guy that had his DEROS orders was very drunk, he pulled the steps away from the back of club so those running out launched through the air and came down in, yes, the run off from the urinals. Those " victims" were madder than the " Wet Hen" and started fighting. Those of us across the street had a front row view of this event. IIRC there was a MP unit and an engineer unit involved.
 
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RVN memory

Since it appears the conversations have turned to the way of outhouses ( I hope temporarily) I have this memory that has never left me and feel compelled to offer it.

Arriving in Danang from Okinawa at 2:00 in the morning and being shuttled to the Transit Facility( kind of diagonally across from Freedom Hill but I`m sure any Marines entering RVN know where I`m talking about) to await orders to where ever I would be sent I had to avail myself of the facilities the next day and after assuming the position I began to read the graffiti on the wall and there in big bold letters was the quote "TODAY IS THE BEGINNING OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE" !!! To that moment in time I had never seen or heard that saying but it slapped me in the face and seemed to stop my heart. It seemed as if the metallic clangs of the ending of a Jack Webb TV show were playing in the background. It`s kind of funny now and if any of the guys reading this put it there I can assure you it had the desired effect:).
 
In any military unit, it is unstated, but surely some personnel are more "important", more vital, more "valuable' to a mission than others. I believe generally the commander is most "important", but his RTO is equally so. The soldier whose responsibility to ensuring the ammo does not run low. The cooks, the maintenance section, every body in some way is mission essential. Every one contributes (or in some cases, hinders) mission success.

Perhaps a better way is to consider the consequences of loosing a trooper. Looking at it this way then does not invalidate the human worth of any soldier.

History is replete with accounts of a replaceable individual being key to the success or even survival of a unit.

If I had had a misfortune in Desert Storm, our EVAC would have continued with another in my place, without loosing a step.

But two of our soldiers who were not replaceable were our two chaplains. Both were quiet, caring, listening men. A chaplain is vital to a unit large enough to have one assigned, or available. Military chaplains are careful to be non-denominational in their mission. They make themselves available to every person, in groups, or individually. And to the extent possible keep confidence and privacy in their interactions with sometimes troubled soldiers. I only know our two chaplains were always with our troops, listening, talking, and just being there. So where some of the the worlds religions began, they had a sunrise Easter Service. As many of our troops attended as possible as the sun abruptly rose over our berm, bathing us in warmth and light.

Two men so vital to our hospital's mission.

When I was in Vietnam, the first six months I would head out for my week or so with one SGT to some forward outpost. Our compound had a Catholic priest, who would offer communion to I and others. I did not know in that religion that the Priest and not the parishioner took the communion wine. So when our Priest poured his wine, and I chugged it down, he just said, OK, be blessed.

Made up about 250 158 grain 38 special rounds yesterday, will head over to a local range and shoot most of them later today in my new to me 28-2.
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