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6 Off to War On 7 April we learned the 1st Airborne Brigade had been ordered to relieve the garrison defending the province capital of An Loc. The brigade would be built around the three infantry battalions that had been at the National Training Center. It would also include three artillery batteries equipped with 105 mm guns and an engineer detachment with a dozer and backhoe on lowboy trailers. Those units were ordered to assemble, form up in a convoy, and be prepared to depart the next morning at first light. My map showed the assembly area was located along a portion of Highway 13 in the northwestern outskirts of Saigon. When my driver and I got there we found ourselves right in the middle of a congested urban neighborhood . The brigade’s assembly area was a mile-long stretch of the urbanized highway. As the evening unfolded I realized the location was actually well chosen as it provided the troops with an opportunity to stretch their legs and get a home-cooked meal before departure. The plan was to initially truck the brigade north on Highway 13 through Ben Cat and Lai Khe toward the town of An Loc. We were told the enemy had cut the highway at some point north of Lai Khe, although the exact location wasn’t clear. Our mission was to open the road and reinforce the garrison at An Loc. When we had been told the battalion was headed into an urban battle I revisited the team supply sergeant and traded in my rifle for a short-barreled 12-gauge shotgun. He also gave me six boxes of 00 buckshot shells. My previous experience fighting in cities had convinced me a shotgun was what I wanted, but since I was the only soldier in the battalion carrying one I would only have as many shells as I was willing to carry. Six boxes seemed about right. In fact I didn’t expect to use the shotgun much since I’d be in the middle of a battalion of paratroopers; if I ran out of shells I’d be able to take my pick of discarded rifles. The shotgun was an Ithaca Model 37 Feather- 26 Chapter 6 light pump gun, an old and trusted friend. Dad and I had gone 50/50 on the same model shotgun years before when I was fifteen and ready to start hunting . It had come equipped with a full-choke barrel and accounted for many a South Dakota rooster pheasant. In fact I still use that dependable old gun when I’m able to get back to stir up the roosters. My rucksack weighed about eighty pounds with the eight canteens of water , the shotgun shells, and all the C-ration cans that would fit on top of the poncho liner, a couple changes of fatigues, a half dozen pairs of socks, and my shaving gear. I also stuck in several rolls of toilet paper as I had acquired an active distaste for using jungle foliage as a toilette expedient. As it turned out, a case of triple-ply Charmin wouldn’t have covered the requirement that eventually arose. As the evening progressed the units assigned to the brigade began to arrive in the assembly area from their various home compounds. Dozens of trucks, some carrying troops and others pulling water trailers or artillery pieces, shouldered their way up the highway in clouds of diesel and dirt. They pulled off onto the sides of the highway or turned down neighborhood streets to park. Radio jeeps loaded with excitable staff officers shouting into handsets, whip antennas up and waving, raced around the neighborhood. Laughing housewives began to appear from their kitchens to sell homemade food, served to the troops in family dishes. Soup or white rice with boiled vegetables and chicken or fish were offered from the family pots. The women collected a few coins depending on what food was ordered and then waited patiently for their customers to finish slurping and belching. As soon as the food disappeared the women dunked the used plates, bowls, spoons, and chopsticks in plastic pails of cold water for immediate reuse. Shouting kids selling cold sodas and popsicles out of tin boxes swarmed the unexpected but welcome market of soldiers. More than two thousand troops had appeared in the immediate neighborhood, eating, spitting, chatting with everyone in sight, passing around their newspapers and cigarettes, sleeping in and under the trucks, and...

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