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.