Primitive Archer
Main Discussion Area => Around the Campfire => Topic started by: iowabow on February 24, 2011, 10:32:54 am
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This is a thread for those who have and are serving in the armed forces for any country. I was posting with Grunt in "screen names " about what it was like to serve and how it changed our views about life, community, and country. I tend to remember the funny things that happened like, one time we were on maneuvers and was digging in near a creek and I mentioned to the capt that I could make him a catfish dinner if he gave me two hours to noodle a fish from "that there creek". So he bit and I went to the creek and just happened to find a cut fishing line along the bank and swam out to a log and untangled the hook from an submerge log. I dug in the bank for worms and started fishing. After a couple of hours I brought back fish for the comand tent and one for me!
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Iowa, thanks for starting this thread. I'll post some war stories over the weekend, most likely, as I am swamped right now.
I hope others share service-related tales, as I'd like to see who is a vet, branch and MOSs, and what they went through. Even squids :)
Dane
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funny this should be asked for right now. I'm in the middle of writing a Vietnam memoir based on letters I sent home from boot camp, Vietnam and the hospital. I was on active duty in the Marine Corps for three years.
Went to Parris Island in March of 1966. Graduated PFC and was off to other advanced infantry training and arrived in VN Sept 1966. I was assigned 1st Bn 3rd Marines and moved to an outpost hilltop in the Da Nang area. Within a week was in my first firefight. Eleven of us were in a squad position with three fighting holes and a wall tent in the middle. We got hit right after I went off watch, were quickly overrun and my position with two other Marines was the only one to hold. Eight members of my squad were killed that night and I killed my first three men. I've got a magazine from my m-14 that has a AK hole in it from that night.
We saddled up and moved north to Khe Sanh after that. It rained and rained and rained for 12 weeks without let up. We lived in our ponchos and made makeshift hooches from shelterhalfs. We were always wet and I didn't take my boots off or shower or have hot chow for all that time. We worked like slaves setting barbwire and digging bunkers. Morale was at the point we were going to kill some of the Sgt that worked us everyday including Christmas. Nights were ambushes, combat patrols, listening posts, or hole watch two hours on two off two on two off. No more than four hours sleep. The only saving grace was the North Vietnamese weren't intrested in Khe Sanh at that time. I put in for a transfer to get out of the chicken------ outfit and I got it in Jan 1967.
My transfer went into the 1st Bn 9th Marines. 1/9 had a rep it was said that you got issued a body bag when you joined them as they were in constant combat. My tour in 1/9 was rough. Constant operations, humping from dawn to dark, setting in, getting motared, running all night patrols of laying in the bush beside a trail in ambush or listening post or hole watch. A grunt's life. We did operation Prairie in a heavily mined area. Alpha company lost 37 men to mines in four days. We were ambushed by a large force and one of our supply sgts saved my plt from annihilation by charging the ambush with a M-60 machine gun and was killed, his parents recieved his MOH. The fighting got savage, we had guys hit every day and I got a couple of chunks of shrapnel and got a PH. One day we called naplam in on two companies of NVA and had burning targets to shoot at. We counted 210 dead NVA and only took a couple of wounded. My rotation day was approaching but all I could think of was my next fifteen minutes. I lost count of my kills at around twelve or thirteen,I was nineteen and wanted nineteen kills. I know the day before I got shot I shot four NVA off the backs of tanks when they were trying to put satchel charges under the turrets. We had our M-14 taken away on April fools day 1967 and we were issued new M-16's. Delta company got caught in a big ambush and the new M-16 started jamming. We, Alpha co, ran at night through a minefield to their aid. We found dead Marines in groups of two or three with their weapons field stripped to try and clear their M-16. If we hadn't fixed bayonets and attacked into the ambush Delta would have been wiped completely out. They couldn't defend themselves. Deltas machine guns were out of ammo. There was a ditch where the corpsmen were staging the wounded and all the wounded and the Corpsmen had been executed. We captured three NVA and used them for bayonet practice. Our officer looked the other way.
Alpha company bumped into a NVA camoflaged bunker complex in May 1967. Everywhere we went we were in a crossfire of automatic weapons. It took us four days to clear those bunkers and our supporting arms were a plt of six tanks. We killed 137 on the third day. At the end of four days our plt was down to one squad and I was squad leader. We got caught in a crossfire and everyone in the squad was hit. I caught a round through my hip and we had to keep fighting to survive. The bunkers were so close it turned into a grenade duel. One member of my squad saved one man and went to get another and they both were killed. His parents got his Navy Cross.
I was wounded twice more that day by shrapnel but after four hours we had another company come in and drag the survivors out. The medevac helo I was on took fire pulling out and the guy across from me got hit again in the chest.
I was in the hospital for eleven months and returned to duty as a MP at Quantico VA till I got out in March of 69.
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I never joined the military, but come from a navy family. I have a huge amount of respect for the sacrifices you all make. I just got done reading two books that may interest some of you. The Lone Survivor by Marcus Luttrel and Warrior Elite by Couch ( can't remember his first name). Anyone have any other good military reads?
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Currently in the Marine Reserves as an ammo resupply driver in an artillery battery. Went to boot camp in June 2007.
Haven't gone to play in the sand yet but the word is that we are in about a year or so.
Oh boy Afghanistan.
Semper Fi, do or die.
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Thank You. All of you, and especially those who are not here with us today.
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Wow grunt that was one heck of a ride. I know that must have been really difficult, you all sacrificed so much...thank you
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I did a stint in the Texas Army National Guard from 1985-1995. I signed up for 10 years. Never got called up for combat or natural disaster... so I don't really count myself as a veteran. Went to army boot camp, then AIT to train as a mechanic, then got assigned to a mechanized infantry unit. Served 3 years then went to OCS for a year and became an officer (federal commisson) and trained as a combat engineer. Resigned my commission after 4 more years of service then spent 2 years in the inactive reserve. My 10 years was up so got an honorable discharge as a 1st Lt. Wouldn't give up the experience for anything! ;D
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Thanks guys,wasn't drafted and didn't join but really appreciate what you all do and what ones before you have done. :) I truly think I missed something ,but at 18 I wasn't thinking about it like I do now,by the time I realized how important it was I was to old. :)
Pappy
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I grew up through the Viet Nam era(born in 1950) but didn't serve in the military and probably wouldn't have. My older brother served 6months in Viet Nam around 1969 and saw combat. I am the only person he will talk his tour with even though we were on opposite sides of the debate. I understand why he went(or thought he had to go) and he understands why I didn't go and we are both good with each others decisions. I am not ashamed or regretful for not going and I do admire, respect and am grateful for all that have served are serving now and that will serve in the future.
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Thank you all for your service. I never served but tip my hat to you guys. Grunt. WOW. and thanks for a glimpse at what you guys can go through. Eric
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First thanks to you all for you're service it is because of you're service that the rest of us can do as we please. Secondly thanks for taking the time to give us a glimpse into what you had to endure.Ronnie
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I was in the Navy Seabees, 3yrs 2mo. The biggest ship that I served on was a barge tied up on a river in Viet nam. I was on it about 10 minutes, that was my total sea duty. I was in VietNam from May of 68 to May of 69, an Pat B you didn't miss nothing. Just a hell of alot of good young men doing real dirty duty in some shithole for a bunch of good ole boy politicans. I'm gonna quit while I'm still ahead. A prayer for all the true heros that served before, during ,an after me, the ones I'm talking about paided the ultimate price, death. Later Bob
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I did a stint in the Texas Army National Guard from 1985-1995. I signed up for 10 years. Never got called up for combat or natural disaster... so I don't really count myself as a veteran. Went to army boot camp, then AIT to train as a mechanic, then got assigned to a mechanized infantry unit. Served 3 years then went to OCS for a year and became an officer (federal commisson) and trained as a combat engineer. Resigned my commission after 4 more years of service then spent 2 years in the inactive reserve. My 10 years was up so got an honorable discharge as a 1st Lt. Wouldn't give up the experience for anything! ;D
You wore the uniform. If you were called you would have stepped up. You are a veteran.
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Funny thing about war. Most folks will ask a warrior "how was it" and when the warrior answers those same folks take a step back, and their eyes roll up in their skulls. The folks who asked never lived in a place without boundaries. Those folks are trying to be good and empathic but nothing in their life can relate to the fact that war is mans greatest obscenity. It's ok though and I don't blame them for their reaction. If I were in their shoes I would probably do the same thing. One of the warriors jobs is to protect the innocent.
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Served in the Army as a military police officer. 80-83 Never saw any type of combat. Got shot at once while on patrol. Liked to ---- my pants. But couldn't get the order to fire back for the officer on duty >:( Ohhh how I wanted to show that officer how to fire back >:D >:D
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Grunt I never saw combat but as an SP in the LE I carried a gun and everyday and there was the potential of injury or death on the job. You are alway asking yourself "will I be able to do what is expected of me when the time comes". So one time I responded to an alarm at a Top secret Clearance Facility. We were in the process of securing the site and a man came running out of the facility and I told him to halt but he continued to run so I drew my gun and cocked the hammer and yelled one more time to halt. He heard me just as I was starting to pull the trigger and fell to the ground without even tyring to break his fall. I ran over to him and starting going through the procedure for handcuffing the individual and ask him what he was doing. He responded "There was an accidental triggering of an alarm and I did not think you would respond so fast, you see I did not want to be late for my dental appointment"
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Navy medic from 73 - 78. Duty on East coast, West Coast, Tiawan. Lucky to not see any combat or Sea Duty 8).
Plenty of work on 'accidents' though. I remember them brining in a Marine that had gotten shot while on guard duty. Seems him and his partner decided to play 'Gun Smoke' to see who could out draw the other. 45 went off and we in a rush Operating Room got a customer.
Feel the best about the time I was the scrub for an emergency c section. From the time they crashed through the door into the OR Suite until the baby was in the Doctors hands, less than 2 minutes. Baby and New Mother came out just fine. ;)
Bevan
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family full of marines , i never served. spent 3 years trying to get in the marines but military docs wouldnt let me shoot because i spent to much time practicing shooting and im legally deaf in my left ear. mom served and my dad was a crew chief flying medivacs. his chopper was taken down in 71. thanks to all who served, especially you leathernecks. oohrah
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Navy medic from 73 - 78. Duty on East coast, West Coast, Tiawan. Lucky to not see any combat or Sea Duty 8).
Plenty of work on 'accidents' though. I remember them brining in a Marine that had gotten shot while on guard duty. Seems him and his partner decided to play 'Gun Smoke' to see who could out draw the other. 45 went off and we in a rush Operating Room got a customer.
Feel the best about the time I was the scrub for an emergency c section. From the time they crashed through the door into the OR Suite until the baby was in the Doctors hands, less than 2 minutes. Baby and New Mother came out just fine. ;)
Bevan
If you have ever heard a c section you will never forget it.
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I 'm a tin can sailor. Was in Vietnam in 68 and 69 on a can, USS Robert L. Wilson DD847 as a quartermaster. Did alot of steaming on that can. Spent over 3 years on her. Went around the world 2 and a half times. Saw and did alot of crazy things.
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father is retired Marine...I am retired Air Force. I enlisted for 4 years to finish my school and almost 21 years later retired because of wifes father dying of cancer and her wanting to stay near family. I thank all those that served before me...with me...and since my departure.
Father never really talked about his time in Vietnam...other than a few pictures but not much else. Funny how he has dozens of pics from Vietnam and Okinawa....and I have none from my time in harms way with digital cameras all around. Started as Combat Controller....injury sidelined me one week from graduation...so off to Europe for a short stint and then back to Intelligence Operations school and a life of adventure. I laugh when my friends say I have more ship time than some of my Navy comrades I served with.....and as much time in TA50 gear humping a ruck as the grunts. Time all around the world in a wide selection of roles kept things interesting at the expense of raising my two girls. That was left to my wife and thank God I had a strong woman to run the household properly, raise my kids as best she could, and waited on me to return home and into her arms every time. EVERY TIME.
I get irritated with all the internet commandoes, snipers, seals, CCT, PJ, Intel and other wannabes...used to confront them but anymore I dont have the energy. Too much to focus on with keeping family safe and secure in a troubled world and failing economy. None of the warriors I had the pleasure to serve with...were boisterous or braggards when it came to actual combat or operational experiences. They might brag of their prowess with weapons and women, fast cars and drinking.......but when it came to actual trigger time...all fell silent. Only a lunatic or liar finds fame and laughter in death...especially when it includes the blood smear of a friend on the vehicle seat beside you or a wet spot on a dirt road where a mine took out a Hummer.
God Bless the Veterans of America!
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Sgt.U.S.ARMY Best unit 2cd sqdn 7th United States Cavalry........If you aint CAV you aint **** !!!!!!! 86-91
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father is retired Marine...I am retired Air Force. I enlisted for 4 years to finish my school and almost 21 years later retired because of wifes father dying of cancer and her wanting to stay near family. I thank all those that served before me...with me...and since my departure.
Father never really talked about his time in Vietnam...other than a few pictures but not much else. Funny how he has dozens of pics from Vietnam and Okinawa....and I have none from my time in harms way with digital cameras all around. Started as Combat Controller....injury sidelined me one week from graduation...so off to Europe for a short stint and then back to Intelligence Operations school and a life of adventure. I laugh when my friends say I have more ship time than some of my Navy comrades I served with.....and as much time in TA50 gear humping a ruck as the grunts. Time all around the world in a wide selection of roles kept things interesting at the expense of raising my two girls. That was left to my wife and thank God I had a strong woman to run the household properly, raise my kids as best she could, and waited on me to return home and into her arms every time. EVERY TIME.
I get irritated with all the internet commandoes, snipers, seals, CCT, PJ, Intel and other wannabes...used to confront them but anymore I dont have the energy. Too much to focus on with keeping family safe and secure in a troubled world and failing economy. None of the warriors I had the pleasure to serve with...were boisterous or braggards when it came to actual combat or operational experiences. They might brag of their prowess with weapons and women, fast cars and drinking.......but when it came to actual trigger time...all fell silent. Only a lunatic or liar finds fame and laughter in death...especially when it includes the blood smear of a friend on the vehicle seat beside you or a wet spot on a dirt road where a mine took out a Hummer.
God Bless the Veterans of America!
The supply Sgt that sacrificed his life to save our Plt and was awarded the MOH was Walter Singleton. The man in my squad that saved one man and sacrificed his life trying to save another and was awarded the Navy Cross was Michael Stewart. Look them up if you want. I too am sickened by wannabes.
Having 147 letters from boot camp, Vietnam and the hospital is a burden I have carried for a long time. Last fall I left them at the wall at 19 east where most of my plt is.I was told by a publisher that they wanted a memoir based on my letters with plenty of action in the writing. I rejected the publishers offer because the publishers motivation was $. They wanted something they could sell. I will not sell out the men I served with.
I am seeking just to publish the letters without alteration. I may have to self publish.
I'v'e been going to the VA for treatment of my wounds and PTSD for eleven years. When I started therapy I couldn't speak about combat without stuttering. If more of us speak about our combat experiences maybe folks will learn not to resort to armed conflict.
Semper Fi,
Grunt
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Sgt............USMC.....2nd Battalion,5th Marines..........Republic of Vietnam........1964 to 1969. Along time ago but at the same time yesterday.
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Nine years of service produces a lot of memories. I’ll start with boot camp, which is what I consider the gateway into military service for anyone who has raised their right hand and said yes to service with Uncle Sam.
My MOS (military occupation specialty) was 11 Bravo, which is infantry. Fort Benning School for wayward boys was were I did basic training and advanced individual training in one continuous block of training lasting 4 months. The first stop was Fort Jackson, South Carolina, where they had reception station, first uniform issue, first military haircuts, in-processing, shots, and so on. How it was set up was we would wait there until the entire basic training company arrived from all over, and once we had our allotted number of slots, we were shipped to Benning to begin training.
I recall arriving there early in the morning on the bus from the airport. It was one of those southern summer nights, very hot and humid, something I had never experienced before, and to this day, a humid summer night brings back that moment very vividly. The bus that took us from the airport to the reception station arrived at maybe 2 AM. We off loaded and were directed to the lobby of this movie theater. An admin lieutenant shouted that everyone who was NOT going infantry to gather in one sport. I guess 95% of the guys shuffled over there. Then, he shouted that everyone who was going infantry to move to a second sport. The rest of us moved over there, and I recall the comments from the other recruits. “You guys be crazy.” “Oh, man, good luck.” “Wouldn’t want to be them.”
I felt a little bit of that uh-oh feeling at this point.
It wasn’t too bad at Jackson, mostly hurry up and wait. We learned what Brasso is, and we got our issue of four sets of BDUs, which in 1982 was still the brand-new camo uniform that replaced the pickle suits. There were drill sgts there, but they didn’t act like I had expected them to from seeing movies like “The DI.” In fact, we all felt this was going to be a cake walk.
We were of course wrong.
It took maybe a week to get the entire company assembled, and even then, it was a small company, maybe three full platoons vs. the normal four platoons of a rifle company, so we never had a 2nd Platoon, and each platoon was relatively small, maybe 3 and a half squads in 1st Platoon.
The day arrived when we met our first drill sergeant, Sgt. Fowles. He seemed like a nice, laid back guy, got our duffle bags stowed, got us on the bus, and off we went. It was a nice drive, seeing first South Carolina and then Georgia flashing by the windows, and I do recall more than one comment that this was going to be way easier than the recruiters suggested basic would be.
We stopped briefly at the main gate and they checked our arms to confirm that we came up negative on the TB test, and then we drove to Sand Hill. Sand Hill was one of two basic training areas at that time at Fort Benning. Harmony Church was still using crumbling old WWII wooden barracks, and we felt very luck not to be heading there. Sand Hill, aka Sand Hilton, consisted of these huge brick barracks complexes, three stories tall and with a central mess hall, individual armories, drill pads in front of company offices, wash rooms, etc. Surrounding each complex were PT fields, obstacle courses, and so on. They were austere and wouldn’t win any architectural awards, but they were far preferable to Harmony Church. Minus the fire ants, of course, but we didn’t know about those guys yet.
So, the bus pulls up down the road from 6th Battalion, 1st Infantry Training Brigade, our new home for the next four months. The bus driver gets out quickly, up stands the until-then subdued SSGT. Fowles, and all hell broke loose. If you have seen the boot camp scenes from Full Metal Jacket, then you have an idea of what happened next. We were screamed at to grab our gear and get to the company area. I grabbed two duffle bags in a panic, and off we ran up the hill to the barracks, panting like dogs in the sweltering heat to where the entire drill cadre was waiting for us.
They were not smiling. We were told to dump our bags out at our feet by screaming NCOs, told to line up on these painted footprints, and nothing we did was correct. All of us found out what the front leaning rest position was. This savage verbal assault (I think that is a fair word to use in this case) went on for about two hours, and finally, we were herded up the stairs to our new barracks room on the second floor, assigned a metal rack in a big common room with four rows of racks and one wall locker each, and finally got to breath and wonder what we were thinking putting up our hands and saying yes to this.
Welcome to Bravo Company.
Being about the smallest guy, I was singled out quickly, but everyone was in different ways. That evening, we were marched to the barber shop and got our first Bravo Bulldog haircut, as the ones we got at Jackson were not up to Benning Standards, as they had left some hair up there. We were required to purchase certain items, one being a shaving brush for reasons I can’t even remember now. Sgt. Williams, one of our 3 platoon drills, suggested we look at each man next to us, as not everyone was going to make it.
Which was true. In my platoon, we lost maybe 4 guys out of 40 before we were done. One was flat-out crazy, and should not have been there. He tried committing suicide at least once, and a sight you don’t want to see is an insane naked private covered head to toe in talcum powder running through the barracks and wailing. Another guy from a different platoon we had nicknamed Missile Head. He had a pointy head, like Zippy the Pinhead. I recall observing him being forced to low crawl around the entire battalion for some indiscretion, and another time, on KP duty he had gone off and was hurling plates and glasses at everyone in the dishwashing area, and ended up being rushed and tackled by one of the drills as plates came crashing down and exploding around the guys. Another guy ended up being recycled, and as we left, he was being re-assigned to another company for a second go around. Another guy from a different company in the battalion died on a heart-related condition during morning PT.
If I said it was fun, I would be lying, or not remembering all of it, but overall, I consider Benning an important time, and as Joseph Campbell has written, it is a rite of passage. You come out changed, for better or for worse, but for most folks, I think for the better. The drill sergeants who you learned to hate you also learned to respect and appreciate as you evolve from a maggot to a soldier. You learn that you are capable of far more than you had expected or knew. And there were fun times. The Malone Ranges became our second home, and we tossed thousands and thousand of rounds down range. The weapons training of course was the main reason we were there, and that included the M16A1, the M2HB .50 caliber machine gun (“Ma Deuce, Might Heavy, Mighty Dirty”), the M203, the disposable LAW, or Light Anti Tank Weapon, the M60, hand grenades, and the beloved Claymore mine, the bounding Betty, and antitank mines.
Bayonet training was strange and sometimes scary. There we would be in a huge PT field with our M16A1s and the bayonet dangling from our TA50 web belt. Over and over, we’d answer the question “What is the sprit of the bayonet?” with “To Kill!” at the top of our lungs. “What are the two types of bayonet fighters?” The quick and the dead!” It was all pretty cool, except when we finally had to square off against a partner with a naked bayonet facing us. I of course got stuck with the dumbest guy in the platoon, the one who had experienced the joys of the blanket party at least once, and was sure I would end up with the thing sticking out of my chest.
I did survive that, the gas chamber for what they call “protective mask confidence course,” which is army-speak for being put in a room filled with CS gas, pulling off your M17 mask, and then taking a deep breath and seeing how long you can last before fleeing, and my frankly horrible skill at tossing a live M67 hand grenade. I also survived having a tank drive over my “defensive fighting position”, meaning you run and jump into a hole in the ground, an M60 tank drives over the hole, and you pop out and pretend to ready and fire a LAW into the vulnerable engine area with an empty tube, then scramble out covered with dirt for the next sucker in line.
We really did sleep with our weapons during field training, and found out how small a thing as a honey bun was for dessert can be after eating c rations for days at a time in the bush. C-rats alone have developed a sort of mythology to them with the many ways to make them edible, how to not blow up a can of beans and franks when you heat them by burning the little cardboard box (the secret is a few vent holes made with the P38), and how great Tabasco sauce is for the pork slices in juice, and what to avoid at all costs or go hungry that night.
You found fun where you could. One time, we were training on the high-speed shelter half, which is basically a pup tent. Each man is issued one half a tent, one pole and a few stakes. You button them together and have a pup tent. That night, it happened to be raining and I told my tent mate that under no circumstances should he touch the inside surface of the canvas. Why? Just don’t. Why? Trust me, don’t to it. Of course, he had too, and spend the night soaking wet. That I got a little wet too was worth it. Another time, my fire team was detailed to guard one of the rifle ranges. It was a spooky night, lots of wind, and there had been a brush fire through there not long before we arrived, so our mission was to make sure the place didn’t burn down. My buddy was pretty freaked out there in the dark, so on our two hour shift, I started telling him all kinds of BS ghost stories. He got more and more agitated, so I got more and more vivid, told him I saw blood dripping out of one of the range towers, stuff like that. He was finally absolutely freaking out, and then, the wind caused an ember to ignite a big tree stump just a few yards from us, and I of course told him the ghosts were angry at him, etc. :)
Overall, I would not trade a moment of boot camp, and the lessons learned there were far more than weapons, tactics, drill and ceremony. I think anyone who went through it, no matter what branch of service or MOS will agree.
Dane
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I cleaned this story up a lot to make it PG
When I arrived in boot camp the DI told us that we could declare any contraband items at that point. We placed all of our procession on our racks and the DI inspected each troop's items. One young man had brought a box of birth control. The DI ask him who are you going to "dance" with? He said no one and the DI said that only leaves one person and that is me. So are you taking me to the dance? He said no and the DI said so if not, do you hate me? Poor guy could not win.