We reached the place where we were going to set up for the night in the middle of the village. Our gun position was in the back yard of a French made house. It must have been a wealthy landlord or the village chief.

At night fall there was some loud talking by the villagers that echoed through the village that lasted for a few seconds. Then the clear sound of a child talking not far away, and then there was silence. Only the sound of nature as the chill of the evening air crept in. Long shadows of the surrounding trees were cast against the shimmering full moon. Crickets rubbed their legs together in the tall grass. The croak of a frog in a nearby pond sounded in frequent intervals. The crisp smell of dense vegetation wafted by on every breeze. Mosquitos buzzed around your head and landed on your hands and ears. Mosquito repellant was used by a few Marines, but quite a few refused to wear it because the scent could be detected by the enemy. In the same we could detect them from their foul odor.

I had second watch that night. When Etscorn finished his watch he came over and tapped me on the shoulder until I woke up. I sat up and groggily rubbed my eyes and crawled out from under my poncho liner. After giving me a few instructions he nestled down on the ground and pulled his poncho liner over his face. The moon was now high in the starry sky. It's beams glistened on the trees and other foliage in front of me. I sat against a tree next to the gun trying to shake off the sleep that was trying to overpower me. My eyes would dropped and momentarily my mind would fizzle out, then I would catch myself and force my eyes to stay open. I sat there not moving in a semi-conscious state for what seemed like a half an hour. As if in a dream I saw a bent over figure very slowly creeping along my vield of vision about 20 meters away. It stopped next to a tree. The light of the moon reflected on its Oriental face. The dark eyes seemed worried and searching. Suddenly my mind came to. I grabbed my rifle. I put the selector on automatic, aimed the barrel toward the place where I saw the face and squeezed off a couple bursts. Everyone woke up amd jumped up and ran over to me. "What happened"! they all asked in unison. I told them and they started debating about moving to a new position now that our position was given away. If there were any VC out there, they would know where our position was. Finally it was decided that we would stay where we were.

The next morning after breakfast we saddled up and proceeded in combing through the village looking for documents, ammunition and other signs that the Viet Cong might be in the village. We went from hut to hut asking the people if they knew where the VC were. Most said they didn't know. Occasionally we would make them empty out their large ceramic pots to see if they were hiding rifles or ammunition in with their rice. We didn't find any, but managed to make them resent us for making them do that. Each hut was about the same; a dirt floor and very little furniture. Straw mats for beds and an alter dedicated to Buddha which consisted of a table covered with candles, insence and maybe a picture of relative who had passed on.

At that time in the war we were under strict orders not to burn any of their huts, or destroy any of their property as had been done in previous years by US troops. It was sent down by decree by the president that we were not to do these things unecessarily since we were trying to win the peoples hearts and minds over to our side, and our way of thinking. We were supposidly trying to stop them from sympathizing with the enemy.

Etscorn and I walked into a hut where a lady of about twenty years old was in the process of giving birth. She was on her knees bent over a fire of twigs in the center of the hut. The heat from the fire I assumed was to ease the pain she was going through. Her clenched fists were half raised toward the ceiling. She seemed to be in a trance of wreathing pain. Once in awhile she would relax one had and carress her protruding stomach and lean closer to the fire. A small child dressed in a light colored tunic was in the hut with her. It had a dirty face and was looking forlornly looking at its mother. We wanted to help her in some way, but when we came forward she shook her head. She did not want us there. We left her in the hads of nature to agonize over the fire. There was nothing we could really do.

Later in the day we were back in the regimental area. The next few weeks were occupied in going out on small patrols and pulling guard duty

We took the main path throught the village. As we walked by villagers and children began to line up on the side of the path with their hands out asking for food. A woman of about thirty five was forced to stop as we passed by. She was carrying two tin buckets of water, one on each end of a bamboo pole across her shoudler. She was looking into the face of each soldier as we passed by occasionally blushing with embarrassment. Some of the little boys got bolder and started asking for cigerettes. "Gimme smoke GI". They would say. They couldn't have been more then six years old. A few of our guys would throw them cans of c-rations and cigerettes. The kids would scramble around trying to get whatever they could. A little later these kids could be seen puffing on the cigerettes.

THE SWIM AND GETTING SOAKED

A few days later we started to a different location. We had been walking for a few hours when we came upon a river. It was hot and we were tired. The captain gave permission for us to take a short swim. While two or three Marines stood guard, the rest of us stripped off our clothes and waded into the cool water. About a half an hour later we put our clothes back on and saddled up and again headed back to the trail to a different location.

About this time of the year the monsoon rains had already started. When the rain started, it didn't let up for days at a time. We had to take our boots off at least once a day to let them breathe and dry out. Those who didn't were suseptable to jungle rot which was very hard to get rid of. The unrelenting rain almost proved to be worse then the penetrating heat. We all used our ponchos to build make-shift shelters to keep the rain off. This was done by attaching them together and using poles and sticks we found around for support. Still the water would find its way in and we would all be soaked. During the day, when we weren't out on a patrol we were huddled in our shelter trying to stay out of the continual drizzle of the rain and cursing the day we joined the United Stated Marine Corps. After about a week of this we got into some waiting trucks and were driven back to our rear area.

BACK IN THE REAR AGAIN

We were back to the usual routine of working parties in the day and bunker duty at night. By this time I had only been in Vietnam for a very short time, but I had already experienced a few people get killed and wounded. I just wanted to get out of there alive. I had no desire of becoming a statistic in this God forsaken country and this worthless war. I did not feel that the Vietnamese people wanted us there. I could not really understand why we were there. Why should we care about this country. That was a huge question in my mind. It didn't seem to have anything to do with being patriotic.

Life was dull in the rear. Time went faster in the bush. Finally the day came when we would once again go beyond the gates of our perimeter. After recieving our orders and hauled our gear out of our tents we once again filed out of the north gate and got into a staggered column, and slowly made our way down the main road for a few miles and then turned left down onto a rice paddie dyke where we formed a single file line. Each man was about ten feet from the man infront of him. We sloshed through rice paddies and over bridges which consisted of nothing more then two logs thrown over a creek. Finally we came into a village that was partially hidden among banana trees and bambo thickets. As we approached the village, the sights and sound of life there started coming alive. People were going about their daily activities. You could hear the children talking and shouting to each other. There were pigs grunting. There were smells in the air. The people were wispy and thin and undernourished looking. The faces were gaunt with a dull, glazed look in the eye and hollow cheeks. They used the most primitive methods to get their day to day work done. A hollowed out trunk of a tree became a mortar, and a carved out log was a pestle. Women washed clothes at the rivers edge, pounding them against rocks in a rythmic motion that had been used for centuries. Both men and women chewed betel nut which turned their teeth black. The houses they lived in were made of bamboo and grass.

www.therealmikebailey.com

Three more choppers landed. I took my position behind Etscorn and we made our way to the back of the chopper. In a few minutes our gun team and the rifle squad all made it aboard. We took our places on wooden benches on the side. Those who didn't get a seat on the bences knelt down in the middle isle. The ramp went up and we were airborne. Twenty feet, a hundred feet, two hundred and fifty feet, five hundred, two thousand, ten thousand feet. We leveled off at about twenty thousand feet right behind the first three choppers, heading to parts known to the pilot, the generals and other brass, and not to us. I looked aout the window and saw nothing but graveyards and bomb craters below. This was a land of graveyards and bomb craters.

In what seemed like about 10 minutes we came upon a wide open space that looked like many thousands of acres partly surrounded by dense unpenetratable jungle. The helicopter descended quickly and landed with a thud in the middle of a field. From the jungle came the sound of a Russian made AK47...crack...crack...crack...and then the ZZZzzzingggg of ricocheting bullets. Instinctively everyone ducked. One man was hit in the leg. The ramp lowered and we all ran in a single file into a field of tall elephant grass immediately forming into a blocking formation and spreading out as we went just like we were trained to do back in ITR. When the last man stepped off the craft, the bird instantly went airborne taking only the wounded Marine with it. I remained in my position behind Etscorn. Tex was in front of him, and Mike Coleman was in front of Tex.

By this time the company had all arrived and were making a half circle formation in the grass which came up to the shoulders in some places. The temperature was hovering around one hundred degrees. The humidity and the weight of our equipment made it seem hotter. We then formed into a sweeping formation and started through the grass. The edges of elephant grass is like razor blades, and already everyone had bleeding scratches on their fore arms. Some of the Marines started dropping out from heat exhaustion. To our relief this slowed us down. The leuitenant was clearly frustrated. He was barking orders at the sargents, and the sargents were in turn barking at us. I took one of my canteens from my cartridge belt to take a drink of water. The water was about the same temperature at the atmosphere, so it did not quench my thirst. Later I would get used to drinking warm water. This first time drinking it was a little shock to my psyche.

Proceeding through the field we swung around a small clump of bamboo trees and headed east toward a tree line when another burst of AK47 fire sounded from under the brush from the left. We all hit the ground except for the forward part of the column. They returned fire with M-60 machine guns, M-16 rifles, M-79 grenade launchers and regular hand grenades. The firing lasted for a few minutes and then ceased. The Vietcong had either fled or were shot. Most likely it was the former. Their tactic was to shoot and then flee. They wouldn't have shot unless they had a way of escape. Either a tunnel system to jump into, or another route of escape that was well planned out. They did not do things in a hap hazard way. Four grunts volunteered to go forward into the underbrush to see if they could find them, while everyone else gave them cover. After about fifteen minutes of searching and coming up with nothing the grunts came out of the underbrush. We pulled back and humped about two thousand more clicks, set up a perimeter, dropped our gear and proceeded in digging in for the night.

Once our holes were dug and we were resting up a bit it was decided that two platoons would go out and try to make contact with the Vietcong in the area. One platoon would stay back and guard the perimeter. Our gun team was picked to go out on this little operation.

DODGE CITY

We were to acompanie 3rd platoon. Heading off into the jungle we soon came to a clearing. To the left was a birm wall. What this wall was doing way out in no mans land, I don't have a clue. When both platoons were in the clearing suddenly there was a burst of AK47 that rang out. The sound of ricocheting bullets whizzed overhead, and another burst danced in the dirt in a straight row near where we were. We all sprang into action. Coleman saw one of the cong shooting with his rifle on top of the birm a little distance away, so he and Tex ran ahead with the gun to a little mound about sixty meter away. Tex put the gun down and pumped about three hundred rounds in the direction of the gook. Meanwhile Etscorn and I caught up with them and threw down our belts of machine gun ammo in the grass so Tex and Coleman could have easy access to them. I then started firing my rifle in the direction of the birm wall. I didn't see the gook, so I didn't know what I was firing at.

The order came to charge the birm wall. I grabbed the unused ammo from the ground and threw it around my shoulders and started running toward the wall with Coleman, Tex and Etscorn. At the foot of the wall another burst of AK47 rang out. We hit the dirt and returned fire. Again I did not see where the firing was coming from. Someone yelled that Rocky was hit and then called for the corpsmen. Rocky was an African American from North Carolina. He was the blooperman for 3rd squad. That means he carried an M-79 grenade launcher. He had 90 days left in this God-forsaken country and was looking forward to going home. No one realized that he was going to his permanent home...today.

The two corpsmen ran up to where Rocky had fallen in the grass. They had their medical bags in both hands in front of them. Immediately they crouched down around him and started to administer first aid. Minutes later two grunts were carrying Rocky in a make shift stretcher made out of a poncho. The corpsman was carrying a bottle of fluid in the air with a tube attached to Rocky's arm. They were bringing him off the side of the birm wall to get him on flat ground. "Set him down here!" the senior corpsman commanded. "I'm going to give him a shot of morphine!" The grunts set him down in the grass. The corpsman stabbed a fresh needle into a small bottle and drew out the liquid, and then started to insert it into Rocky's arm. At that moment all the blood in Rocky's body pumped out of the hole in his neck where the bullet had entered. He died. The senior corpsman was beside himself in grief. The medivac chopper had just landed in the field behind us. Rocky's body was carried on board and the chopper flew off.

We continued up to the top of the birm wall. On top we immediately opened up with our weopans spraying the jungle infront of us with all the lead we could afford. Word came that the command post had called in an air strike. We had to lay down on top of the wall face down with our hands tucked under our bodies protecting our family jewels. The Phantom came and swooped down in front of us and let loose a load of bombs about one thousand meters away. The bombs hit with a series of loud explosions. Seconds later a wall of dirt, dirt clods and rocks came raining down on us. The jet then circled around for a second time a little closer to our direct front. The second load again showered us with more dirt and rocks. A few of our men were injured from the falling debris. Medivac choppers were again called to take away the wounded.

When the dirt settled we all stood up and brushed the dirt off of our clothes and weapons, and then proceeded down the other side of the wall. The jungle that was once infront of us was now a tangled mess of vines, uprooted trees, and a number of brand new craters of freshly turned reddish dirt. We got into a column and marched about a quarter of a mile into a large open grassy field where we set up a perimeter. I happened to be looking across the field and saw a gook standing waste high in the elephant grass about two thousand meters away. He didn't have a shirt on and just stood there looking at us. He had a chubby, round face. I put the saftey selector of my rifle to automatic and aimed in the general direction of the gook and squeesed the trigger and shot off the entire seventeen rounds of the magizine in two or three bursts. Nobody was in any mood to go out and see if I got him. After that we walked back to our gun position. It was expected that we would get hit that night, so we dug our machine gun hole, and fox holes deeper then usual. As night fell, the frogs started to croak, and the crickets started to sing. Misquitos started buzzing around your ears. The smell of the vegatation was strong. It made your eyes water. Somehow we got through it all to live to see another day.

FIRST OPERATION

It was around January of 1969. Vietcong activity had been reported in an area about 18 miles south of us. We had known for days that we were going to be sent to the bush. All of our gear was ready and waiting in our tents. Finally the signal came and we got our gear and proceeded to the landing zone. After waiting for about a half an hour the sound of helicopters was heard overhead. Three landed at a time. The wind that the chopper blades produced stirred up dust and flattened all the grass around the area. The first squad started to run toward the open back ramp of the bird. Each man grabbed the pack of the man in front of him and leaned forward holding his helmet with his free hand and made his way to the chopper. After the last man was aboard, the ramp closed and the helicopter lifted off, banked to the left, then headed in a southwestern direction.

Later our section leader Brian Strasser (pictured above) told me he tried to lift one of the bodies and it came apart in his hands. The quartermasters were putting the parts of bodies they found in plastic bags.

The squad we were attached to was later detailed to look for the second downed chopper. We found it not far away in some tall grass at the edge of a rice paddy. We radioed back that we found it. We then went back to the first chopper and set up a perimeter around it and picked out a position to put the machine gun overlooking an open field. Here we would set up for the night. Another squad set up around the other wreck.

That night Mike Coleman woke me up after he stood his watch. Instead of going right to bed, he stayed up to talk for a while. He sat with his rifle propped between his legs and his face close to the barrel squinting into the darkness. I could tell that the events of the day had affected him deeply as they also did me. We talked a little about the days events. He affirmed to me his belief and trust in God in times like this. I agreed with him. He then went over and laid down on the ground and pulled his poncho liner over his face and went to sleep.

The next morning we got up and fixed our C-rations, and drank a cup of instant coffee. The quartermasters had finished their work so we saddled up and lined up on the road. Before we moved out we pushed the remains of the wreckage to the side of the road. My feet were beginning to get sore from all the walking we had done in the last few days. When we got back to the compound we resumed our usual routine.

After this the moral of the rest of the guys in the unit took a sharp turn for the worst. Word came down to start heading back to the compound. We got into a single line and started back to the road. Suddenly when we got about half way there a huge explosion rang out about 100 meters in front of me. It sounded like the blast of an 81mm mortar round. I looked up and saw smoke and debris whirling about 100 meters in the air. This time a sargent was hit. The full impact of the blast hit his body tearing him to pieces and killing him instantly. I hadn't fully come to terms with the first injury. This death was almost more then I could take. There was no meaning to it. It was just a senseless killing. We were all grief stricken and troubled to the quick of our beings.

As we walked along the path I heard a sputtering sound of an engine and then a loud noise like a crash. I looked up in the sky about 2 miles away and saw two helicopters collide. Each burst into flames and fell toward the ground in a trail of black smoke.

Back at the company area we were imformed that we were to go to the area where the two helicopters crashed and set up a temporary perimeter around the wrecks and guard them against looting from the civilian population. We escorted a team of quartermasters to the crash sites so they could gather up the remains of the pilots and the crew to be sent back to their families. C-rations were passed out. We saddled up and lined up in formation in front of our tents and then headed out the south gate in the direction of the crash sites. Driving slowly and cautiously beside us were the trucks that carried the quartermasters.

After about an hour or more we reached the place in the road where the first chopper had crashed. It was a pile of unrecognizable rubble, except for the blades that lay against the wreckage. There was a crowd of civilians gathered around the wreck. They quickly disbanded to the side of the road as our men reached the area. We quickly formed a circle around the wreckage. The quartermasters immediately went to work searching for human remains among the dibris and ashes. As they went about their work they shouted back and forth to each other. It was a sickening site and the stench of burning flesh was unbearable. One of the bodies was severed at the waist and was charred beyond recognition, except for an insignia pinned on his shirt. There were other bodies strewn around but I was too sickened to look any further.

PATROLS AND SEARCH AND DESTROY

The next day we were to go outside our perimeter to go on a patrol. In the mid afternoon we walked out the south gate in single file, each man about 8 to 10 feet apart. We went up the main road about 2 kilometers and cut off to the right onto a rice paddie dyke and followed it to a hamlet in a treeline in the distance. The foliage was beautiful and the smell of the exotic plants and shrubs was very strong, but pleasant. We walked throught the hamlet for a few hours looking for signs of the Vietcong or weopans. We found a few holes in the ground that could have been used by the enemy, so the engineers blew them up with c4. After that we wnt back to the battalion area.

A few days later we rounded up and saddled up and got into formation and filed out the north gate in a staggered column and walked up the road for a few kilometers, then took a left into a grassy field. Once on the field we got into sweep formation and spread out on one side of the field and slowly proceeded arcoss the field stripping, clearing and destroying any hole we came accrossed. We were also in hopes of flushing out any Vietcong that might be in the area, and finding any supplies they left behind.

Frequently the lieutenant had us halt and move to the right or left, then continue forward. We got about half way through the field when suddenly there was a loud explosion. I looked over to where the sound came from. The moans of a Marines could be heard from the grass where he lay writhing in pain. The call was immediately sounded for "corpsman up!" The new Navy corpsmen dashed swiftly up to the wounded Marine and proceeded in giving him first aid. Within 15 minutes a medivac came and took him to a hospital in the rear. After this incident I began to realize the seriousness of this war. After the helicopter left the senior corpsman said that the doctors would probably cut out part of his stomach and intestines.

MIKE COMPANY RETURNS FROM THE BUSH

Mike Company had been in the bush for a couple of weeks and you could tell they were glad to be back in the rear. You could hear them coming. They were hooping and hollering and making alot of noise. They seemed glad to see us new recruits. The squad leader found out that I was assigned to his gun squad so he took me over to the tent where the rest of the team was and introduced me to them. I was first introduced to the team leader Mike Coleman, a lanky, black haired Louisianan who wore military glasses. We shook hands. Then he introduced me to the gunner who was from Texas. They called him Tex. Then I was introduced to the A-gunner whose name was Etscorn. He was from the mid-west somewhere. The first thing I learned from them was to forget everything they taught you from text books back in the States. "This war isn't run like they teach you out of books", they would tell me. Things were changing in the war and you had to adapt to the situation. Mike and Tex had been up north in the battle of Kai Sahn so they had a little experience and knew what they were talking about. Etscorn was fairly new to the team. He didn't have as much experience as them but he was pretty knowedgable and taught me quite a bit.

Mike Company was going to stay in the rear for a few weeks so they got to eat in the chow hall and take showers and see a flick every night when ever they had them. I was going to start learning how to stand guard at night in the bunkers around the perimeter. I was kind of glad to finally get to be involved in somethng rather then just going through the motions. Training was over. This was the real thing.

STANDING GUARD

As night fell I was to man a bunker with Etscorn. We were assigned to a bunker on the south side of the perimeter. It was expected that we were going to get hit that night so we had to be extra alert. For the first couple of hours we sat around and talked while keeping an eye out on the front of our position. Etscorn began to fill me in on what it was like out in the bush and gave me pointers on what I should and shouldn't do, and ways to keep alive.

We started our watches at 10 PM. He would take the first watch. Then after 2 hours he would wake me up and I would stand watch for 2 hours. We did this until 2 guys were sent over to help us out. One of them was a guy that I went to machine gun school with. We recognized each other and renewed our friendship. We filled each other in on what we knew about some of the other guys we trained with. We continued our watches until daylight the next morning when we all went back to our tents. Nothing of significance happened that first night. Only a rat crawled over my legs during the night while I was trying to sleep.

VIETNAM 68-69-70

We moved to Snohomish in 1967. I was a junior in high school. This would be the 3rd high school that I would attend. I had no idea what I wanted to do after I graduated. I hadn't planned for or prepaired for anything. When I was around 14 years old when we were living in New Jersey and the war in Vietnam had been going on for a few years, my father told that I'd probably end up fighting in that war. At the time I didn't think much of it but by the time I graduated from high school and was 19 years of age I had to start thinking about making a descision. I knew I couldn't live at home forever. I wasn't interested in college. I had no connections in Snohomish. We had only lived there for 2 years. The time came where I needed to do something. The war in Vietnam was still raging. My father had always wanted me to make a carreer in the military like he did, and his father had done. I was really not interest in a carreer in the military. It did not appeal to me one bit.

I had no alternative then to join the military. Once I started to set my mind to it I could see that this experience would introduce me to life. I could actually visualize myself learning something that would prepare me for life. I went into the Marine Corps recruiting station on Colby Avenue in the small city of Everett about seven miles from where we lived in Snohomish. The recruiting officier was sharp and snappy and had an acid tongue mixed with humor that I liked. I knew the Marines would be hard, but I felt that I needed some kind of challenge in my life at that particular time. I wasn't worried about something being hard. I have had hard times before. I signed my name down on a document that would allow me serve in the United States Marines. An excitement started to well in me that nothing could dampen.

A few weeks later I went down to Seattle where I had to undergo a physical to see if my health was good enough to serve my country. I passed with flying colors. Then on June 14, 1968 I was sworn into the Marine Corps along with about 18 other young men like myself. We were bussed to Seatac Airport where we boarded a commercial airplane that would take up to San Diego where we would start our military training in boot camp in a place called MCRD, where we would be stripped down both mentally and physically by our drill instructors, and then be rebuilt and molded into a United States Marine. We learned the art of conventional warefare which included the disassembly and reassembly of the M-14 rifle. We learned to shoot it, clean it, march with it, eat with it, and sleep with it. Eventually I qualified as a marksman. After bootcamp came infantry training and machine gun school. Then it was off to Vietnam and the war.

It was a sunny December day in California when a bunch of other servicemen and myself boarded a jet that would take us to the seat of war. First we would stop at a little island off the southern end of Japan called Okinawa. We would stay 3 days there. Finally we boarded another jet that would take up to Vietnam.

The flight took only 2 hours and forty-three minutes. There was a little bit of tension built up among the men. We all knew we were on our way to a war and some of us would be killed or wounded. Occassionally some one would come out with a joke that was appropriate to the situation. I have found out from that time to this that sometimes humour is the best medicine.
And at that particular time when we were all far away from our family and loved ones humour served to ease the tension and make us all feel a little better about what we were about to be going through.

The aircraft circled over the South China Sea and then headed for the air strip at the Danang Airport which now lay below us. Stepping off the plane the suffocating heat blasted you in the face, and almost took your breath away. I immediately noticed a faint aroma in the air of smoldering wood. It was a surreal moment walking down the steps permiated by the tropical heat. I saw alot of military men walking around in their camoflauge jungle utilities, and the Vietnamese people wearing cone shaped straw hats and loose fitting clothes.

We were driven by trucks to the terminal building not far from the airstrip. There we stood in line and handed in our orders to clerks behind the counters. Then sat on the long, well worn, wooden benches that lined the walls and the center of the building. Here we would wait for somene from out new unit would come and get us. I was assigned to the 3rd Battalion !st Marines.

Antisipation filled the air as everyone wondered aloud if they would be going north near the DMZ where most of the intense fighting was goin on, or would they be going to places south of Danang where there wasn't too much fighting. Rumors were going around about different servicemen getting killed and wounded in different areas. This made an effect on everyone. We met some guys who had finished their 13 month tour and were on their way home. They told us of the worse places to go in Vietnam. I wanted to pinch myself and wake up out of a bad dream The reality of Vietnam was hitting us all.

I noticed that the Marines who talked the loudest and acted the toughest back in the States seem to be withdrawn and silent now that we were in Vietnam. We all sat in our own soul searching thoughts wondering what was going to happen next. Soon we would be scattered to all different regions of this war torn country. All during the day trucks from different units would pull up. five or six guys would pile in the back and they would head out to their new duty station.

It was growing dark and no one from the 3rd Battaion 1st Marines had come. For those of us who were still there, we were taken to an old flimsy looking wooden two story building where we were to be housed for the night. We were first shown a bunker that we were to use in case we were hit during the night. Then we were taken upstairs to a large room with some cots in it where we were to sleep for the night.

I picked out a cot and put my stuff on it. There was almost a carnival feeling in the air as I sat there my first night in Vietnam. I could still faintly smell wood burning somewhere. I wondered where it came from. The air was muggy and it was hard to get a fresh breath of air.

A few minutes later a figure stepped into the room. The insignia stamped on his shirt told me that he was a Marine. He looked younger then me. He saw me, but didn't say anything to me. likewise I didn't say anything to him. I'd never seen anyone dressed like that. He had on camoflouged jungle fatigues with a wide brimmed camoflouge jungle hat on his head. He set his worn looking pack on a rack on the other side of the room. His boots were yellowish white in color from wear and tear in this tropical weather. Now he was going through his stuff that was now laid out on the cot. I knew he had just come out from the bush and was probably on his way home. He looked confident and young, but seemed more mature for his age. I thought maybe he would have been 18 years old. There were hard lines etched in his face. He seemed like someone who had seen and experienced alot. Probably battles with the NVA and VC. I avoided his eyes. I had not seen any war. I was new here. I laid down on my cot and contimplated my own fate which was about to unfold. Was I going to get out of here alive? Would I live to tell about my experiences? Soon I drifted off to sleep. Later I was awakened by the sound of automatic rifle fire in the distance. A minute later there was the single shots of a rifle coming from a different location. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. I had thriteen months to go in this country.

The next morning I woke up and sat up on the cot and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. It took me about a minute to fully realize that I was really in Vietnam. I got up with the rest of the Marines and filed down to the chow hall and had breakfast, then went back to the terminal to continue waiting for someone from the 3rd Battalion 1st Marines to pick me and a handful of other Marines up.

There were Vietnamese women around the terminal cleaning and sweeping. Some of them would look at you and smile sheepishly and then go about their business. The language that they spoke was very different and did not resemble anything I had ever heard in my life. I have always been interested in languages and have tried to learn a little of others. With Vietnamese I didn't know where to begin. The people were on a totally different wavelength then we were.
My first impression of these people was; they seemed friendly toward Americans, and for the most part we liked them too. They were small and gentle in stature. They had small features and small bones.

Everything was different in Vietnam. It was like a step back in time. Men and boys leading oxen drawn carts around. Women carrying baskets on their head or on bamboo poles across their shoulders. I had seen knic-knacs and pictures of things like this. I didn't realize people still did these things until I saw it with my own eyes.


MIKE COMPANY 3RD BATTALION 1ST MARINES

Late in the afternoon a driver came from 3rd Battaion 1st Marines arrived. Eight of us boarded the long awaited truck and took seats on the floor of it's open back. We shook hands all around with those we were leaving behind. They wished us good luck and waved as we pulled off. Then we all gave each other the "V" sign with the index and middle fingers. I had never seen this before. It was something out of the World War II era. It was a sign that we constantly used ever since. So with our state side utilities, our fresh haircuts, black shiny boots and pale skin in the back of the six-by we meandered toward the side gate that would take us to whatever fate had instore for us.

Outside the gate on the main road heading south there were many people walking on the side of the road; mothers with baby, old men with walking sticks and a rag on their head. Little boys would run along side of the truck and wave and ask for candy. We would wave back and give the victory sign. Some people were carrying heavy loads on their backs, some had the pole and baskets over their shoulders. There were many people riding bikes and motorcycles around along with beat up old French-made cars and ancient rickety lambrettas. There were quite a few military vehickles on the road. Many of them were driven by Vietnamese soldiers. Old rotting busses occasionally went by crowded to full capacity and people hanging off the side and out the windows.

Ratty looking shacks lined up in rows along the side of the road. These were mostly made of 2 by 4's, coke boxes, cardboard, corrugated tin, sometimes with a thatched roof. After this was vast flat lands made up of acres and acres of rice paddies as far as the eye could see on both sides of the road. Each was sectioned off by dykes with a narrow path on top that enable the farmers to get from one paddie to the next. Here and there along these vast tracks of land are large wooded areas where these people build their villages.

A thousand thoughts were going through my head as I tried to process the hundreds and hundreds of new sensations that assailed my senses. The sun was setting in back of us. I faced east scanning the scenery infront of me. The deep green rice plants that grew in patches along side of the paddies glistened in the evening sun and waved in the gentle breese as the shadows of evening began to descend over the countryside. I had never seen such exotic shades of pastel green before in my life. My eyes fell upon a mountain in the distance that looked like a solid rock jutting out of the sand where the rice patties ended. Someone said that that was Marble Mountain.

It was almost dark by the time we reached the compound. When night falls in Vietnam there is a curfew on the civilian population, and all military vehicles are supposed to be inside their perimeters because all US government installations were to be sealed up. The only activity allowed outside that gates are the nightly patrols, smbushes and listening posts. The Vietnames people were supposed to be in their houses. Any other activity would be taken as Vietcong or NVA and would be in danger of being shot at.

The truck entered through the north gate of the compound and parked in a clearing near the sentry's post. We climbed out and got into some kind of a formation and began to loosely march toward the center of the battalion area where we were to be briefed by our new commander.

As we walked into the company area I noticed a body of a man laying face down under a few trees in front of a building in some tall grass. There was blood on the combat uniform and the legs were partially covered with a rubber poncho. He appeared to be a Caucasian man about 28 or 30 years. For some reason I was not suprised to see a dead body laying on the ground in Vietnam. By now most everyone in our troop saw the body and we were whispering to each other about it. I naturally assumed that this guy had been killed in a battle that probably took place earlier in the day, and that the body had been dragged to this spot after the days fighting had ceased. After all, there was a war going on in ths country, wasn't there? It didn't seem like that big of a deal.

As we reached the commander's office, someone from within approached the driver, took him aside and whispered something in his ear. His face turned red with anger and he glanced over at the body. He beat his fist into the palm of his hand and started to shout. Someone from our ranks asked him what was going on. He didn't answer. A few minutes later he told us that someone had shot one of the company sargents just a few minutes before we arrived. He was killed by one of his own men.

The captain appeared at the door of his office looking visibly shaken. He welcomed us to Mike Company and gave a little pep talk about the company and what to expect, and what was expected of us now that we were in Vietnam. When he was finished we handed in our orders to his assistant who checked off our names from his list attached to a clip board. The captain turned and went back into his office. I was assigned to weopans platoon. That meant I was going to be a machine gunner.

At the supply hut we were issued the equipment we would be using while in combat with Mike Company. The following is what we were issued;

2 sets of light weight jungle fatigues with wide pockets sewn on the trouser legs
2 combat shirts. (the kind that you don't have to tuck in)
1 pair of canvas and leather combat boots with metal strip sewn into the sole
1 flack jacket
1 helmet
1 pack
2 canteens
1 cartridge belt
1 mess kit
1 gas mask
1 bayonet
1 entrenching tool

We were taken to a row of tents where the grunts lived on the west side of the compound where there were rolls of barbed wire and bunkers made of sandbags and wooden beams. The tents were set over a wooden structure that sat on concrete blocks and housed about 10 men each. We were assigned to the new comer tent and were told that the rest of the company was out in the bush and would be back in a day or two. There was hardly any one in the Mike Company area. Just a few Marines who were there for one reason or another.

Inside the tent we each found an empty cot where we set all of our new gear on. There was two black dudes playing cards on the cot near the front of the tent. They were silent at first. They just watched us while slapping down cards in a game of back alley. Later we were taken three at a time to the armory to check out our M-16 rifle and two bandoliers of ammunition.

Later when we got back, the dudes playing cards started asking us where we were from back in the world. We had a short conversation with them. They were disgruntled against the war. They said they didn't agree with it and that black folks shouldn't be involved in it because it was a white man's war. They told us that this war would be nothing like we expected it to be and that we would soon find out it was a worthless cause.

We spent the first few days at Mike Companygoing out on working partys; filling sandbags and other things. In our spare time we would take pictures. In the evening we were free to familiarize ourselves with the M-16 by taking it apart, cleaning it and putting it back together.