Ground Pounder: A Marine’s Journey through South Vietnam, 1968-1969

Chapter Twelve: Into the Breech

253 Chapter Twelve Into the Breech “The only problem with a nation honoring its war dead is that it tends to inspire the young to seek out that same honor.” One dismal morning, the helicopters unexpectedly arrived and took us away in a whirlwind of flying dust and lingering fumes. While climbing above the clouds, the air was so cold and crisp that we had to huddle together to keep from shivering. After living in our dirty foxholes, it had been quite awhile since we had actually seen each other in a clear and open setting. As a group, we were literally covered in mud and grime, unshaven, and undernourished. Our battle fatiguesweretorntoshredsandtheequipmentwecarriedwasoldand almost useless from the wear and tear. Grinning at each other as if the governor had just pardoned us, everyone realized that we were flying in an easterly direction, which could only mean a reprieve of sorts. Almost immediately, Huff and Fuzzy began taking bets as to our destination. Personally, I kept hoping that we were headed for LZ Stud in order to get a few days’ rest and some hot chow. Weighing only about one hundred twenty pounds, I had gook sores running up 254 Ground Pounder and down my arms, swollen feet, and ringworms all over my legs and crotch. Amazingly though, compared to other fellows in my squad, I was somewhat healthy. Several of them were running high fevers and couldn’t keep their food down. Poor Roger and Huff had been crapping in their pants for days and Fuzzy had a badly infected leg. Our physical condition was so deplorable that we probably looked like a pack of refugees from Ethiopia. To my disappointment, we flew beyond LZ Stud and continued towardsthecoast.Lookingdownbelowus,wecouldseeseveralArmy firebases and villages dotting the countryside. This only added to our anxiety, because we didn’t want to end up having to patrol some booby-trapped area. Then as our helicopter turned to the south, the scenery quickly began to look very familiar. Stretching for miles on end was the same grassy plain where we had previously stood watch over the Army’s artillery base. Suddenly, everyone became alive again. The prospect of guarding another Army installation was just what we needed. In a moment of exaltation, Roger and M&M began ripping open their backpacks and chuckingtheirC-rationsoutthewindow.Aswesatthereandwatched them throwing their food away, the crew chief instantly jumped to his feet and motioned for us to get ready to disembark. In one fell swoop, our helicopter gently landed into a field of golden grass and we were unexpectedly shoved out into the bush again. I don’t think that I have ever seen such a group of demoralized people in all my life. Stunned, we just stood there for a second and looked at each other in total disbelief. Unbeknown to anyone, we were about to conduct a couple of operations that were complete failures from start to finish. Many of the guys blamed the Skipper, but personally, I think that we were all just too physically and mentally exhausted to properly function. Throughoutthe wholewar, our units were constantlybeing sent from oneplace toanotherinan effort tostoptheflood.Whilenever having Into the Breech 255 enough grunts in the field, our two-plus Marine divisions were being asked to secure an area which ten American divisions couldn’t have realistically covered. But for whatever the reasons, these two operations sure didn’t go down in the history books as one of the Marine Corps’ finest moments. Aswestruggleddownaruggedinclineandintoasmallvalley,everyone was quiet and lost in his own thoughts. I knew this was a bad sign andthatwewerebeingpushedtoourlimit.Normally,infantrymenare always bitching about something or other. If they aren’t complaining about the incessant rain or the nagging insects, they’re usually raising hell about the lack of rest or the dreadful tasting water. However, whenever his men quit bitching, a commander should sit up and take notice. It’s generally an indication of a company’s declining morale. The Skipper looked down at his map and then he gave directions to the lieutenant of the point platoon. Exhausted and in obvious pain from our afflictions, everybody just went through the motions as if we were walking in our sleep. The guys kept looking around at each other with these cold, blank stares, hoping that we would soon stop and make camp. At this point, the heat had become so intense that I could not...