Stories of Charlie Co & 2-12th Inf Regiment

Some of the prank or stunts that happen rarely come to light happen in basecamps. Way back when, about mid-March, 1968, the Battalion had just arrived at Cu Chi for a stand down after battling the VC and NVA around Tan Hoa and Hoc Mon during the Tet Offensive. The whole unit was whooped from exhaustion and heavy combat action in those same named villages. The BN took some casualties and many wounded during that 5 to 6 week period.

Now, sitting in Cu Chi was a chance to get cleaned up, check the equipment, get a set of clean clothes and write a letter or two. For the medical staff, it was a chance to do the same and to update their medical supplies. One of the drugs used to treat jungle rot was called procaine benzylpenicillin. Not being a medic, I'm not sure there were other treatments as well. Back to this particular drug that came in the form of a pill, it had a shelf life like most drugs.

There was a unnamed medic who was tasked to get rid of a whole bottle, or more, several hundred pills because they had exceed their life. What to do with these pills? The treatment called for disolving some in water, then soaking the feet in the solution. It had a side effect in that the water is turned purple, thus, the feet end up with a violet tint to them. This medic looked around and was trying to solve his problem of dumping these pills.

About that time, a  water truck stopped by the hootch he was staying in. Looking around, and seeing no one, he decided to dump his stash of pills into the water truck. What he failed to realize is that this water truck was filling the tanks for the shower stalls and he had just left the EM shower and was on his way to the Officer showers. Yikes! Who, of all people would you guess that was going to use the shower first? It was someone on battalion staff, name witheld. He was NOT happy when he turned on the shower and was coated with purple tinted shower water. I'm not sure if that was just the surprise or the water actually had some affect on his skin and he had a slight violet glow afterwards.

My medic friend's identity shall remain protected.....HeHeHe

As told to me from Ron Rich -- A Co 66/67

I never realized at that time if it was so terrible what I did?  I think I lost that PFC stripe many time, and paid $22.00 for something called an article 15.  BUT, hey it's all good.. (Upon completing my tour in Nam) when I returned to Boston on Dec. 24th, 1967 I had orders to go to Fort Hood, Texas.  I asked around to the guys before leaving Camp Alpha (Bien Hoa), what was there & what did the Army have planned for me.  Answer was, snakes, scorpions and a lot of dust & hot. Just being 19 it didn't sound so good.  BUT, first I had a 30 day leave to enjoy at home and God, was it cold & snowy in Marlboro, Mass. 

 Well at the end of my 30 days I had to come up with something of a plan.  I drove my 1959 Chevy conv, Impala (wish I had kept that car HUH?) to Fort Devens, Mass and pulled up to the gate. It was only about maybe 20 something miles from home. I was greeted by the MP's & I’m looking good, all gussied up in my few medals & infantry unit citations & stuff they give you when you come home from Nam.  They asked if they could help?  I said I didn't know but had to start somewhere. I didn't want to be AWOL, or anything like that, so what should I do?  The MP's said to pull into a small lot with a building marked MP HQtrs & talk to the SGT on duty which I did.

 After entering inside a fenced in area with a small cut out, it must have been for a protection type of thing all the fencing.  Here was a Name tag:  SGT GREGARIO.  I looked at it & said to what I thought was only to me:  "You gotta be shitting me" and a quick reply from the person behind the fence was, & I quote him “What's your problem soldier?”.  I looked up at him & said.  “YOU!!!  You’re my problem at the moment.  A little over 2 years ago, 4 kids walked into your recruiting office in Framingham, Mass. & you promised us everything, especially the 17 year old, You couldn't help him without parents signature. But that kid wanted to be a DOG Handler with the MP's.  So do you remember any of those times?  I sure as hell didn't join for the Infantry”.  He turned a kind a pale white after forgiveness set in & he said “it was the way then to get bodies into the Army”.  However,  I said look “ I have orders to be some place. I don't know where they are,  & I'm not sure if I got any orders??”.

 I don't want to be AWOL or be classified as missing so I came here for help. ON HIS BEHALF!!  I will say he helped.  He called the Base commander & I remember him saying to whoever he was talking to, I have this young kid back from Nam & doesn't have his orders & he's doesn't know where to go. Can someone come on down & pick him up?  That's something good he did.

 A 1LT, showed up by the name of Iverson, maybe in his later 20's.  He came in, looked me over & said OK, soldier, can you type?  I said a little maybe. Good enough follow me. We did have other conversations of where I had been & my unit.  But NOW!!!  I was in G-3 supply typing up orders for equipment.  Cool.  HUH!!  Got to drive home every day left at 3:30, I didn't have to report into base till something like 8:30 AM Monday to Friday, off weekends.  Great & so it was to be, UNTIL late April, (remember, No computers or stuff in those days).

 Well, the shit hit the fan, Orders from Fort Hood had me listed as a full blown DESERTER,  ouch.  So now the Base Commander at Fort Devens says,  No, he's been here with us at the base working in G-3. and has not been a deserter. This is what I was told. So, now 1LT Iverson shows up in supply & says,  “Rich what R U going to do with yourself after the Army?  I said, " go to school sir college GI bill”.  His reply was OK!!  Here's the deal.  You have 72 hours to bring me back a letter of acceptance to go to school/college and do not to come back without one.   So, off I went, I had 3 days to do this in, after all it's now spring, weather is good.  I went to Boston College, U Mass. Framingham State, and finally Worcester State.  They greeted this vet like a hero, God was that different.  Took me into the Deans Office, talked, signed me up and gave me a letter of admittance on the spot.  All the other colleges said to come back in a week & get the letter,  I said No, It had to be now. I only had 72 hrs to get it to my commander.  Worcester state did the job.  I returned with the letter of admittance to 1LT Iverson.  He said "GREAT!  lets go.  I said, what's going on??  Soldier you’re getting an early out to go to school!!!  We got you covered. 

 You see, Fort Hood, Texas wants you back in the worse way as a deserter,  General, I don't remember his name said, no, he's here & is not a deserter.  & no charges are forthcoming (something like that I guess)   At any rate 1LT Iverson tosses me into the Hospital for some period of time and after about a week shows up & says you got your early out, top says go to school, & you’re not going to Fort Hood.  So, I need your address for your final pay voucher.  Sooo, I told him 1289 E. Hancock Dr, Daytona Beach, Florida. We had a little vacation home there, my Mom did, so for travel money I had to take a shot, cool huh.  WELL!  1LT Iverson says,  Nice try Ron,  You get muster pay to Marlboro, Mass. I think it was about $2.56 cents (we had a laugh).  But then I said,  Whoa, early out, what kind of Discharge are you giving me??  You’re getting your Honorable Discharge with all benefits with an early out for educational purposes.  I said look,  I know we went to the 25th INF DIV Medical HQtrs for evaluation. Capt, Newport, said Hey Rich go get 3 of your buddies to go with you back to Cu Chi, they need 4 volunteers,  He was a cool Captain also, that's when I was in Delta Co.  I said Capt. Newport no one wants to volunteer.  OK, Then you can just stay with us in the jungle or go back to the base,  I'm giving you guys a break.  We said OK, & took the chopper out.  When we got to Cu Chi a jeep drove in to the Hospital; area,  It pulled up at, " 25th Medical Mental Hygiene". We all said great we’re going in to get our minds cleaned up.  Why we were there was to see how combat fatigued we were.  At any rate, I got into a disagreement with some Captain that insisted we were all OK.  I insisted I wasn't  OK, & wanted a section 8,  He said sorry Kid, you not Crazy,  I said  Ya, well I got 200 guys in my company that says I'm crazy & different. I don't understand it, but that's what they say. The Captain, then said Welcome to catch 22 PFC.  & that's the only answer I ever got.  You’re crazy if you love combat & you’re crazy to try & get out of it I guess. 

 So with that questioning with 1LT Iverson & upon showing me true my authentic Discharge DD 214 we hugged & he said take care Soldier, Welcome Home!!

 Kind a long huh? It's all I got, a lot of good memories from a not so good war & many brothers.  Cuz, we spent all that time together as 1 unit, almost 2 years & I have forgotten a lot.  Thank God for all those that did care about me & watched over me.  I was good under fire, just not so back at base camp.

As told to Sarge by Ron Rich -- A Co 66-67

An exchange of emails that prompted this story……..You triggered a few memories that can & will swell up your eyes. At the reunion, many of the guys brought up the fact that I used to take off & go to Tan Son Nhut, & then make my way to Saigon.  1LT Olafson  used to lock me up in a conex container so I wouldn't take off. & LT Bradbury, Recon Plt. would come down & set me free, so I wouldn't die from dehydration, heat & darkness. They told me I would hop the mail plane or take a helicopter back there from Dau Tieng. I do remembered hanging out at Camp Alpha a lot & at the USO in Saigon. I remembered my Mom telling me I had to stop calling home on the phone from the USO.  AT&T cost big bucks back in 66-67 to make a phone call.  I did several.  I made a few trips so I was told,  I had forgotten a lot of it but the memories came back when all the guys greeted me & said how they had been looking for me & wondering what had happened to me.  It was really emotional for me & them (men do cry huh!).

I remember Dau Tieng so well.  Ya huh!  It was home for a long time for me.  I know it pretty well.  Spent extra time there for burning the outhouse down,  Long story.  Got upset with 1st Sgt Springer always giving me that duty to burn the drums.  Well after I got back from Pneumonia at Cu Chi & an injury I turned in my papers & he said to go & I quote, "go burn the shithouse Private".  Well, if you never did it, the drums drop & stuff splatters, wrecks everything, Being the youngest I guess I had to pull that duty more than I thought I should.  Sooo,  I walked down & looked at everything.  I lit up a lucky strike & thought about it.  I doused it with diesel & gas & tossed a match.  Well the Engineering fire dept. pulled up & asked why it was on fire.  I said the 1st sgt told me to go burn the shit house.  The sgt said,  “OK, soldier, you’re not stupid  you've done this before”.  My reply was,  “Nope, never burned one down B 4.” WELL!!  that was the start of an ongoing mess.  I asked 1LT Olafson what all these papers were that said the United States of America vs. PFC Rich.  1LT Olafson said.  “Rich, your Government property, thus GI comes from, the outhouse was Gov property & you destroyed Gov property”. Well long story short.  They never court marshalled me. Thank God a couple of the guys witnessed the order given by 1st Sgt. Springer.  Sooo, I did spend some time at LBJ.  But I found out later, almost 50 year that when they sent me LBJ they wouldn't take me. They had no paper work & I didn't belong there.  So, I guess I got an Article 15 for hopping previous flights to Saigon.  But I guess I acted up a lot.  So General Elliot & Captain Palmer (at the reunion), reminded me & said I caused them more paper work than anything else during the whole war time there. 

Sooo,  I have good memories, they’re not all bad.  1st SGT Springer was great like a father. He & Palmer & so many of the other guys were all being like guardian angels, as Bill Comeau said. & we were together a lot in Nam... 

w>

I commanded A 2/12 in 1969.  One Saturday night when the BN Commander had his weekly briefing at FSB Pershing, A company was in charge of security.  This was a break in the action and the guys enjoyed the time and some got some sleep.  The briefing included some charts of the past week's activities.  The BN commander had all of his staff from Chu Chi plus other people.  My seat was next to the BN commander.  One of the charts showed by company the body count which A Company led the pack.  Another chart had the number of newly diagnosed VD cases and again we were in first place.  The comments were very interesting. 

CPT Charles Boyd

Contributed by Elmer Lightner, 2nd Plt, C Co. March 68-69

Like many of those that served in Vietnam, I took my AIT training at Ft Polk Louisiana, good old Tiger Land.  Shortly after arriving, we were introduced to 1^st Sgt Dunn, whom I believe was the senior NCO for E-2-3. During that first meeting he picked up one of those large pine cones that littered the ground throughout the fort, held it in the air and told us that any time he tossed a pine cone into the air every man was to scream “M O R T A R” as loud as possible and immediately drop to the ground. There would be no exceptions and failure to comply would certainly lead to a fate worse than death, or at the very least an excessive amount of pushups. Sgt. Dunn loved his pine cone drill with a passion and was highly adept at choosing the most inconvenient of times to send one soring overhead. One such occasion was on lunch break during a field exercise on a rather rainy afternoon. I had just passed through the chow line and was trying desperately to keep my mashed potatoes from washing out of my mess kit when I noticed the cone take flight from behind a very large pine tree. Almost immediately the alarm was echoing across the area and a few seconds later I was face down watching my spuds become part of the Louisiana mud.

 A few months later I found myself in Vietnam and in a brief period of time I was educated in the importance of Sgt. Dunn’s game and I discovered that “Charlie” enjoyed playing the game also but with more severe consequences. Many times as I scrambled for cover amid the cries of “INCOMING” I swear I could see a pine cone soring gracefully across the perimeter.   Thank you Sgt Dunn, wherever you are.

 Written by Steve Gray, Delta Co.

      We usually went single file, and the first man was called the point man. Behind him came two or three riflemen. Then usually a sergeant, who always kept track of the point man and would pass along to him the need to go a bit to the left or right, just to keep us on the right track. Now comes the front machine gun crew, followed by our platoon leader, the radio men, the medic, platoon sergeant, artillery forward observer, more riflemen, the rear machine gun crew, and then the rest of the riflemen. This order was subject to change, but we were normally something like that.

     The riflemen would rotate among themselves. Today you were the point man, tomorrow you would go to the back of the column. Each day someone else would be the point man, everyone got a turn. After a few days you would work your way back to the front. All this depended upon how many men you had in the rotation. The sergeants, medics, radio men and machine gun crews didn’t count in the rotation. They usually just took up a position somewhere in the middle. We were free to make a trade for a day, if someone was willing to trade with you. As long as we were effective and didn’t endanger anyone, the point man job was shared equally among the troops.

     We were saddled up (we weren’t riding horses, that was our term for putting on all of our gear, getting our weapons and being ready to move out) for the day’s patrol, and today was my day on point. I had done this before, so I wasn’t as nervous as the first couple of times. Then we got some news from our captain, we would have a scout dog team with us today. I thought to myself, how nice, all I have to do today is follow along after the dog and his handler. That’s not the way it happened, not at all. Come to find out I would be in front and the dog would be behind me. Say what? This didn’t make sense to any of us.

     I was raised out in the country, grew up hunting with dogs, and the order of march seemed all wrong. Our dogs were used to hunt different types of game animals. Some dogs were for treeing squirrels, others for chasing rabbits and deer. All of our dogs had one thing in common, they hunted in FRONT of us, not from behind. If they didn’t get out there and hunt, my Dad had no use for them. He would give them away, or worse, shoot them. He didn’t tolerate a dog walking along behind, waiting for him to find something that the dog could bark at.

    Now that the position of the dog is understood, off we go on our mission. If you have guessed that I am a little bit ticked off, you are right. I lead off and the column follows. Every now and then I look back at the dog. He appears to be happy just following me. I’m taking instructions from the sergeant closest to the front. Every time we turn, I check on the dog. He’s still back there. The worst thing about this is the handler makes the dog keep his distance, just in case I blow myself up, the dog wouldn’t be killed too. After a while we stop to investigate something, but I found it, not the dog. While we were stopped, some of our guys wanted to know how the dog was working out. I told them that so far he had been able to follow my tracks, but nothing else. I thought he should at least show some interest, or go from side to side sniffing, but he hadn’t done anything that I thought a dog should do.

   As we continued along, I would sneak a peek at the dog now and then. He was still just trailing along, not showing much sign of interest. When we would stop for a minute or two, to let the dog rest a bit, (it was hot and humid and the handler didn’t want the dog to get overheated) some of our guys would call me and ask me “What’s he doing now?” The handler finally caught on that they were making fun of the dog. He didn’t like it, but that didn’t matter to us cause we didn’t like the dog either. As far as I was concerned they were both dead weight for us to carry. Soon I began to feel better because our guys were giving the handler fits about the dog. “Does he know any Tricks?” “Can he fetch a stick?”

    We continued on our mission, pretty much ignoring the dog, he was no help anyway. We had another day that didn’t yield anything. No contact with the enemy, walked a long way, waded a stream almost up to my armpits, all the while thinking “what’s he doing now?”

Sometime in January 1969, the company was in its usual spot out to the east of Pershing set up in a NL (night laager) position. The sun had set and we began the process of watching and waiting to see if the enemy would attempt any kind of action against us. PFC Jerry Dyer from 1^st plt recalls that night as he told me this story during dinner at the Gatlinburg Reunion.

The company was scattered around the perimeter by platoon as usual. Jerry was set up along with his partner in a fighting position. They were doing their best to create some kind of cover. To his right, was another two members of his squad who happened to have night watch and had the starlite scope. For the first hour or so, all was quiet. Then the conversation started up. The guy with the scope says to his buddy, “Holy shit I see two gooks out there" as he peered through the lens of the scope. He lowered the scope and squinted his eyes as he looked into the darkness. Nothing. There was nothing there. Again, he raised the scope and looked again. There were two gooks and they were very close. “Shit” he said, but again when he lowered the scope, he couldn’t see anything. His partner asked him what was he looking at and grabbed the Starlite but he too had the same problem. Jerry hearing the excitement in their voices maneuvered his way over to their position.

“What’s going on?", he asked? “We’ve got two gooks to our front in the scope, but I can’t see them and they are really close!” was the answer. Jerry says, “Let me have a look see”, then raises the scope up and peers out. “Damn, you’re right, but there’s three of ‘em now”. Jerry now looks hard into the night with the other too grunts, but, no gooks. They can’t see anything. “What the f#@$ is going on?” they ask each other, knowing that the enemy seems to be close enough to reach out and touch.

With all of this going comotion goin on  the Lieutenant shows up. He is leaning over and behind the group. Jerry once again raises the scope but now he doesn’t see three gooks, there are four of ‘em. “Shit, mother fu#$ker the're right on top of us he says”, then it dawn’s on him what’s happening when the Lieutenant kneels down and he starts laughing. The moon had come up after dark and everyone’s silhouette was being projected to their front from behind them and they were seeing themselves reflected off the hedgerow through the starlite scope. They all had a good laugh over that one.

It was the middle of April and Charlie Co, along with the battalion, was patrolling the Michelin Rubber Plantation every day. This included some combat assaults along with some operations that lasted for a week while we spent our time in NL (night laager) sites. This always invited a evening welcome by the VC who liked to send some mortars our way just to see if we were paying attention. That wasn't hard to do when the ground was so hard we couldn't dig in very well. At the sound of "incoming" we would find any low spot we could for cover.

During one of these operations, we had taken some gunfire from a hedgerow to our front. 1Lt Jay Hickey, our C.O at the time, ordered the company to get online and we were going to assault the hedgerow. As the command was given we all jumped up and started to march forward.

PFC Sydney Fowler, who arrived at the same time as many of us in March, was a rifleman from Georgia. For what ever reason he jumped out in from of everyone and started to sprint across the formation about the same time as we started to fire into the woodline. PFC Barry Price, was a M-60 gunnner who hailed from, Loretto, KY. A tall figure of a man, soft spoken with a slight southern accent and strong but gangly with jet black hair. Just as he started to light up his ’60, Fowler jumped into his line of fire. One round from the machine gun hit the back of Fowler’s steel pot and he tumbled to the ground.

Holy Shit! Price though he had killed the guy and quickly told his ammo bearer not to say anything. Not say anything? Hell, Price just shot the guy in front of the whole company. Well, Fowler was only grazed by the bullet. Once it hit the helmet, the bullet deflected downward grazing Sydney in the process. They medevac’d him back to Dau Tieng to get patched up. While he was there healing up, he got the notion that he should have all his teeth pulled since they weren't in good shape anyway. Apparently some army regulation says “no teeth, no frontline duty”. After that, Sydney was reassigned to resupply support and served the rest of his tour in that capacity. It seemed months before I saw him again when he showed up with a resupply convoy out in the field riding in a jeep.

 Hey Bill (Comeau)

Welcome home, my brother! I was just looking at your web site; it was the first time I've seen it. Boy did it bring back some memories. I was there from the end of Feb '68 to the beginning of Mar '69. While looking at the really great pictures I came across one that really got me laughing. Laughing because I was one of the non-carpenters that added the extension to the small arms repair shop in the picture.

I was the .50 gunner on Delta's M-88 and my last two months in Dau Tieng I transferred to small arms so as not to go out in the field anymore. My bosses, WO 3 Kelly and SFC Troyen wanted an annex built and had the three of us do it. We told them we didn't know what we were doing, but they didn't care. So, that's the way it came out. I'll tell ya, Bill, these are some of the best photos I ever saw of Delta Tango. Who is Doug Brablec and do you guys still keep it touch?

Well, just wanted to tell you I really enjoyed your site. 

All the best,

Joe Colussi Delta Co., 725th Maint Bn

I never realized how removed I would be from my daily routines of brushing my teeth and bathing. Once we arrived in ‘Nam, everyone had a different experience with hygiene. Those lucky enough to have a MOS which placed them in a REMF job and certainly some branches of the service made life in the military about the same as civilian life. The basic necessities were all there including running water, a roof over their head and flush toilets and indoor shower stalls.

When I arrived in Dau Tieng at Camp Rainer, all the building for the base camp had been completed. We had barracks, officer and EM clubs, mess hall, PX exchange. After that list, my mind goes blank. Thanks to some input by others who have visited the website, I was reminded about the other facilities that made up the base. We had the other military buildings such as brigade headquarters and first aid station housed in old existing French buildings that were built back in the 40’s or 50’s just guessing. Of course, who could forget the swimming pool that was built above ground including a diving platform? Then we had a few others like the barber shop and laundry which were manned by the local Vietnamese villagers. As you may recall, one of the barbers was later shot dead while working his other profession as a VC guerilla fighter.

There were 55 gallon drums scattered everywhere for fire protection along the dirt streets. Strategically located between buildings were drinking facilities and down the street from our bivouac area was the community shower which consisted of a large pontoon suspended overhead for water storage. There was a wooden ‘modesty’ fence surrounding the shower itself.

As for my own habits of cleanliness, I admit I am scratching my brain to remember. I was always one who wanted a nice clean scrubbed body when I climbed into bed. Even today, I cannot go to bed without having a shower first. In ‘Nam the convenience was not there, especially when we were out on operations. Washing would just have to wait until we got back to base camp. To each one as you think back, how often did a shower become a luxury that you looked forward to?

After leaving Dau Tieng with the battalion, matters got worse and most of us resorted to taking some kind of sponge bath. I would grab my steel pot and fill it with water and find a bar of soap and a makeshift wash cloth and get busy. With the rainy season, washing became a matter of just standing outside with a bar of soap. No, I never saw anyone actually trying that, but the thought has crossed my mind.

Leaving the Hoc Mon area and arriving in FSB Pershing via FSB Stuart, we had a simple shower. A bucket suspended over some steel poles. No privacy, but no one cared either. Except for the very few times that we had the opportunity to do a "Stand Down" in Cu Chi for a few days and make use of the showers there, it was simple pleasure to enjoy when you had a chance.

When I think back about how dirty my fatigues were at times. It came from all the sweat and crawling in the dirt we did everyday. They were so dirty, that they felt like they would not dry out regardless of how hot the temperature was. If my fatigues were that stinky, how did my body survive from all that grime? Did we even use deoderant then? Again, how often I availed myself to the shower only God knows. I hope it more often that once every two weeks. Does anyone remember this part of army life in Vietnam?

We’re in the middle of a war. Who has time for pets? Well, let’s just think about the absurdity of that question for a moment. Looking back through my memory banks, I can recall lots of movies (OK, I’m going Hollywood here) made about the service and war, where animals of some variety were pets to the troops. Mostly, mind you, these were men or women in the rear areas who had them.

However, I have heard of and seen situations where pets found their way into bunkers and foxholes as well. Under the operational control of III MAF/I corps, NSAH, a USN,USMC hospital located in Danang, was  a "mash type" combat hospital located in a remote area next to Marble mountain, across from MAG 16. Part of the largest Naval support activity in history, the primary function of the hospital was to provide medical treatment to the United States Marines Corps and the other free world armed forces fighting in I corps. Free world armed forces included: US Marine Corps, US Navy, US Army, US Air Force, US Coast Guard, ROK (Korean Marines), Australian troops, and Vietnamese civilians. NSAH also treated NVA POW soldiers and Viet Cong POWs in its' POW ward. I corps ranged from the DMZ to all of DaNang and Quangnam Province. Some guys there in the Navy had a pet python named Bonnie, a Vietnamese or Burmese snake. They fed the snake once a week, but I don’t know what it ate.

We all know that seeing a cat just wouldn’t happen in 'Nam and dogs were not plentiful either,at least in the local hamlets and villages. For the sake of the obvious, I am excluding the military dog teams (dog trackers and scout dogs). I know how these grunts felt about their animals and companions. There is the fact that they were there for a reason and purpose. You can read about these teams in the article "Scout Dog"

There were rumors about small animals we consider as pets, finding their way into the village stew pot. I cannot confirm that rumor nor deny it either. I saw dogs around Camp Rainer and in Cu Chi base, but not often out in the field. Jesse Tostado, who was a member of my rifle squad, brought a small black and white puppy back to FSB Pershing one afternoon after lifting it from a village. The dog only lasted one day according to Jesse after he found and ate some C4 that was left somewhere.

It seemed though, that many of the guys wanted to have a pet monkey and Charlie Company had a few spider monkeys over the years. In Dau Tieng, Morrill in 2nd Plt. had a monkey named "Charlie". Later, 3rd plt had one for awhile before he escaped. I don’t know who captured it, but Dennis Buckley and Craig Coleman would drag this monkey around on their shoulder. I think he may have been acquired near Hoc Mon, and brought up to FSB Stuart and on to Pershing. He had it in for a guy named “Killer” Walton and would try and escape just to go after Walton. One afternoon he was successful and Walton was running for his life toward the other side of Pershing with this monkey, "Ho Chi Minh" was his name, hot on his trail. Ho Chi Minh finally found refuge in the bamboo thick that was near the gate leading to the entrance road from 6 Alpha. My thinking was, I didn’t want anything to do with a pet that required you to keep it chained up, either for his safety or mine.

After flipping through all the photo albums, I was surprised how many pics there are of guys holding puppies. I guess it was such a common practice that I for one, guessing mind you, overlooked the fact that we had so many dogs. Whether this was a way of dealing with the hurt and pain of battle and needing some love from man's best friend, I'll leave that up to the grunts who had a pet.

Everyone had a snake story or experience while in-country. I do not recall getting any instructions about snakes, other than the two step snake story that was passed around. To us, it was a green bamboo viper but there were other species that may also fit this description.

There are about 140 species of snakes in Vietnam. No snake kills with more ruthless efficiency than the many-banded krait, which dwells in the jungles of India and Southeast Asia. Drop for drop, its venom is the deadliest of any land serpents, apart from a few rare species found only in the outback of Australia. One bite of the krait carries enough concentrated toxin to kill two dozen grown men.

American soldiers during the war in Vietnam called it the “two-step snake,” in the belief that its venom is so lethal that if it bites you, you will fall dead after taking just two steps. That’s an exaggeration, but the bite of the many-banded krait is astonishingly potent. The venom is a neurotoxin, which means that it disables the victim’s nervous system—like yanking an electrical plug out of the socket. Death comes when neurotransmission ceases: With no instructions to breathe, the muscles of the diaphragm are stilled, and the victim asphyxiates. There is no way of knowing how many grunts died from snake bites due to how medical records were filled out.

I have head of Cobra’s being killed around Dau Tieng and saw a few snakes in the jungle areas. At the end of this article, Lt Vandervoort is holding a snake someone shot with a M-60. I think it was a Cobra. My own personal experience was during a RIF mission out in the Michelin Rubber. Our company had stopped to take “10” and we set out our sentries. Most of the guys were just hitting the deck where they stood to get a drink of water or light up a smoke. For me, I needed to relieve myself, as in #2 so I ventured out into the brush a bit and dropped my fatigues to get to business. About the time that I was going to take care of business and pinch off a loaf, a snake slithered right between my legs. It was black and about three feet in length. I do not know what it was, but that ended any chance I had of finishing what I started out to do.

Read more »

This story was posted in the Tropic Lightning News in 1968. Lawrence McCloud was a member of Charlie Co's 1st Platoon. 

3D BDE - In a rice paddy six miles northwest of Saigon, Private First Class Lawrence McCloud experienced a moment of truth he will never forget.
   McCloud, of Greenville, Miss., was one of 15 infantrymen of Charlie Company, 2d Battalion, 12th Infantry, on a night ambush patrol in the muddy water of the rice paddy.
   Shortly after dark, patrol leader Sergeant Michael J. Granum of Portland, Ore., reported silhouettes moving on dikes about 150 meters from his 3d Brigade platoon's position.
   Soon the G.I.s began receiving small arms fire.
   From behind a two foot embankment the Warriors watched as five dark shapes rose against the night sky.  McCloud saw three of the enemy converging on his position.
   "One of them was carrying a loaded RPG rocket grenade launcher on his shoulder.  I was fixin' to shoot, but I could see that RPG pointing right through me," he said.
   McCloud waited anxiously until the three V.C. were beside his position, only 15 feet away, and opened up.
   The figure with the rocket launcher whirled and squeezed the trigger.
   "I thought that was it," recounted McCloud.  "But nothing happened."
   Silence followed as the G.I.s held their ground.  They heard movement periodically during the night, but couldn't see anything.
   At sun-up McCloud ventured from his slippery position behind the dike and found the anti-tank weapon, still loaded, laying half buried in the mud.  A dent in the primer of its propellant charge indicated that the round had been a dud.
   No Americans were injured in the action, and no enemy dead were found.

Lawrence still lives in Greenville and I had the pleasure of visiting with him by phone recently. He indicated that he has not had much contact with members of his old platoon. We're trying to fix that. - Sarge

After the completion of Operation Wilderness in the beginning of April 1968, the battalion settled down around Dau Tieng. Our focus was running  foot patrols into the rubber plantation that lay to our east and northeast. There would be an occasional aerial assault to the further reaches of the plantation (see Dau Tieng, Michelin Rubber in MAPS). This entire area was infested with VC and the numerous small villages that were scattered throughout the plantation, referred to as AP's, i.e. AP6, AP13, were inclined to favor the enemy when it was time to act as hostesses if anyone stopped in for a social.

We spent a number of days running cordon and searches in these places, and usually turned up something, hiding VC's or some kind of food stashes. After doing a number of these the battalion flew up to the extreme northern edge of the plantation and spend several days sweeping the area know as the Razorback mountains, only we remained on the southern slope, the part where the ridge butts up against the flat land where the plantation begins. These RIF's did not produce any activity on this particular operation other than receiving the complimentary mortar fire at night as we hunkered down into our night defensive positions.

After being in this area for several days, the word came down that we would be withdrawing back to Dau Tieng and that we needed to pack up our stuff and get ready to head back. This meant picking up the "night kit", the concertina wire, mines, maybe some PCP, and the 81MM mortars. We had the 4th platoon with us on this operation because we were on the outskirts of artillery fire coverage from the base camp. The men busied themselves bundling all these items up and loaded the equipment into cargo nets in preparation for the CH-47's from the 242nd AHC "Muleskinners" scheduled pickup starting around 0900.

We could hear the rotors of the first Chinook approaching from the south and the order was given to "pop smoke" so the helicopter could identify our location and verify the smoke color with the ground forces. Whoever tossed the smoke grenade never played sports in school or did very poorly in AIT at the grenade range. The smoke grenade landed right in the middle of one of the packed cargo nets, the only one you didn't want to accidentally find, the one packed full of all our ordinance. In this net, was 81MM HE (high explosive) M-79 rounds, 5.56MM and 7.62MM cartridges and finally cases of star clusters (white phosphorus). The stack of ordinance was about 6'x6' by 4' high.

The smoke grenade managed to snuggle itself down between the boxes and could not be gotten to. "Fire in the hole, fire in the hole" someone was yelling and in only a matter of a minute the first rounds started to go off. Guys were diving for cover, any cover they could find. The helicopter was called off and the fireworks really started to light the area up. Bullets were whizzing around, the star clusters were launching up, down sideways, and the 81MM mortar rounds were sending the burning ammo everywhere.

You could see heads popping up out of foxholes every once in awhile, then they would disappear waiting to see if and when the explosions would die down. It took several hours for all the rounds to finally cook themselves off. After we finally got an "all clear" we had to sweep the area looking for any unexploded devices and anything not recoverable, was dumped into another hole and set off with C4 explosives. We didn't want to leave anything for the VC to use as booby traps.

Yah, a very exciting start to the morning. Fortunately, no one was hurt in this incident. I wonder who exactly, tossed that errant smoke grenade. I don't think we will ever know.

Of all the things we can recall about our initial introduction to the military, were the songs or cadences we were taught by our D.I’s, (Drill Instructors) who learned these from other instructors. All these variations had roots that started back in WWII. This is the background to their origination as quoted from Wikipedia…..

..as a company ... was returning from a long tedious march through swamps and rough country, a chant broke the stillness of the night. Upon investigation, it was found that an African American soldier by the name of Willie Duckworth, on detached service with the Provisional Training Center, was chanting to build up the spirits of his comrades.

It was not long before the infectious rhythm was spreading throughout the ranks. Foot weary soldiers started to pick up their step in cadence with the growing chorus of hearty male voices. Instead of a down trodden, fatigued company, here marched 200 soldiers with heads up, a spring to their step, and happy smiles on their faces. This transformation occurred with the beginning of the Duckworth Chant.

Upon returning to Fort Slocum, Pvt. Duckworth, with the aid of Provisional Training Center instructors, composed a series of verses and choruses to be used with the marching cadence. Since that eventful evening the Duckworth Chant was made a part of the drill as Fort Slocum as it proved to be not only a tremendous morale factor while marching, but also coordinated the movements of close order drill with troop precision

 This original cadence was recorded as "Sound Off:"

 Sound-off; 1 - 2; Sound-off; 3 - 4; Cadence count; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4; 1 - 2 — 3 - 4.

This cadence, known as the "Duckworth Chant," exists with some variations in many different branches of the U.S. military. Duckworth's simple chant soon was elaborated by folk tradition among drill sergeants and the soldiers under their command, and the tradition of creating elaborate marching chants or songs spread to other branches of the military.

"Jody calls"

 In the United States, what are now known as cadences were called jody calls or jody (also jodie) from a recurring character, a civilian named "Jody" whose luxurious lifestyle is contrasted with military deprivations in a number of traditional calls. The mythical Jody refers to a civilian who remains at home instead of joining the military service. Jody is often presumed to be medically unfit for service, a 4F in World War II parlance. Jody also lacks the desirable attributes of military men. He is neither brave nor squared-away. Jody calls often make points with ironic humor. Jody will take advantage of your girlfriend in your absence. Jody stays at home, drives the soldier's car, and gets the soldier's sweetheart (often called "Susie") while the soldier is in boot camp or in country (Serendipitously, the name works just as well for female soldiers.)

 The name derives from a stock character in African-American oral traditions, "Joe the Grinder,who is also prominent in Merle Haggard’ssong "The Old Man of the Mountain.The character's name has been transcribed as "Joady," "Jody," "Jodie," "Joe D.", or even "Joe the ____" (in dialect, "Joe de ____") with Joe then identified by occupation. He was a stock anti-hero who maliciously took advantage of another man's absence. Enlisted African-American soldiers incorporated this character into cadence songs during the Second World War.

 Lineberry (Kent Lineberry, author of “Cadence Calls: Military Folklore in Motion”) emphasizes conflicting uses of the calls: they are useful to command, in that they serve as instruments to psychologically detach the soldier from home-life, and to inculcate a useful degree of aggression. They are useful to the soldier, who can vent dissatisfaction without taking individual responsibility for the expression. While jodies, strictly speaking, are folklore (they are not taught institutionally, and do not appear, for example, in FM 3-21.5, Drill and Ceremonies Field Manual), some are tolerated and even encouraged by leadership, while others are subversive.

 Common themes in jodies include:

• Homesickness.
• Everyday complaints about military life.
• Boasts (of one's own unit) and insults (of one's competitor, which may be another unit, another service branch, or the enemy.)
• Humorous and topical references.

 Lineberry offers an alternative, psychologically and functionally-oriented taxonomy. There are negative themes (disrespect expressed for deities, women, homosexuals, the enemy and economically deprived comrades; graphic expression of violence perpetrated on women and the enemy, glorification of substance abuse) but also positive (unit pride, encouragement of comrades) and perhaps in-between, expressions of contempt for death and indifference to mortality

 One example used in the U.S. Army:

My honey heard me comin' on my left right on left

 I saw Jody runnin' on his left right on left

 I chased after Jody and I ran him down

 Poor ol' boy doesn't feel good now

 M.P.s came a runnin on their left right on left

 The medics came a runnin on their left right on left

 He felt a little better with a few I.V.s

 Son I told you not to mess with them ELEVEN Bs (the designation for infantry in the Army)

One from the U.S. Marine Corps:

Jody, Jody six feet four

 Jody never had his ass kicked before.

 I'm gonna take a three-day pass

 And really slap a beating on Jody's ass!

At the end of the 1949 movie Battleground, the cadence sung is as follows, with the call initiated by the drill sergeant and the response from the rest of the platoon:

Reverent

Reverent calls are an effort by personnel in armed forces rebuild the tradition of oratory recounting of military history in the convention of cadences. The effect this instills is a greater reverence in the squad performing and for the force whose story is retold in honorable PT (Physical Training). Each branch of an armed force has its stories, and an example of the base used is the 75th Ranger Regiment (Infantry's "Airborne Ranger") in which references to WWII for example are included to complement the story.

Airborne

 Rangers lead the way

 Lead in

 Airborne

 Rangers lead the way

 Deep in the battlefield covered in blood

 Lies an Airborne Ranger dying in the mud

 Airborne

 Rangers lead the way

 With those silver wings upon his chest

 Tell America that he's one of their best

 Airborne

 Rangers lead the way

 Lead out

 Airborne

 Rangers lead the way

So, there you have it. The background and history of the military cadence and it’s impact on early life in boot camp and beyond. I still try and remember some of those chants as we shuffled from our barracks to PT and other places on the post. “You’re left, You’re left, You’re left, right left” – “You had a good home but you left / Your right”……………”Jody was there when you left / you’re right”……..

Does anyone remember their time at Camp Alpha, near Long Binh? This is where you got your first set of fatigues and learned a lot about how quickly the sun could turn you into a lobster. I remember being outside, shovel in hand, filling those green polypropolene bags with sand, one after another. There we were with our shirts off absorbing that warm afternoon sun. It did not take long before most of the guys started to radiate a nice pink tone that soon turned into a painful crimson red.

I feel fortunate that I was not one of them. I can't remember how many days was spent at the camp awaiting orders. Mine for the 1st Division was soon overturned and I found myself on  a flight to Cu Chi to join up with the 25th Division. After arriving, I am sure we spend another three days going through some kind of orientation school about the do's and don't of life in Vietnam and what to be on the alert for as a soldier.

There was another delay, I think for a malfunctioning plane that delayed my flight to Dau Tieng for another day. Landing in Dau Tieng seemed like a thrill in itself. The plane, a C-123 came swooping down out of the sky and wasted little time finding the landing field to avoid sniper fire. Yep, my first two weeks in country was just a peak into my future.