I am sitting here
Last edited Sun Jan 7, 2018, 10:48 AM - Edit history (5)
1a)-- thinking of my life since I first became aware of the hate white ameriKKKa holds in it poisoned breast for AA people. I saw my first 'strange fruit' in georgia, 1956. Since then there has been one constant, white hate and secretly held fear of the AA. I tried to join the Air Force, because I wanted to be a pilot and after 'testing', I was given a list of jobs that I qualified for. I got up and walked out...they were relieved at putting another 'in his place'.
This was right after the good, benevolent white people of ameriKKKa extended human and civil rights upon the AA people in 64-65, 44+ years after white women got the vote, early 'trickle down/on' benevolence. The u.s. voting rights timeline is very revealing as to how racist/sexist white males really strived and are still striving to hold on to it's perceived 'supremacy' over ALL others. Deja vu today, with the idiotboypotusPOS, big time.
I went on and joined the Army in March 67. I grew up in the Army...so it was my 2nd choice. My attempt at the Air Force was partly showing my father I could think for myself type of rebellion
So after taking the test I ended up in 26L, Microwave Radio Repair. Put to rest that I was too stupid for the Air Force. So emboldened I went on to Basic and AIT. After 25 weeks of AIT, I got new orders. The Army needed cooks and guess how many of us leaving that school were AA? Let's just say a sizable majority. Well on to Cook School and my first duty post. I along with others in that particular mess hall cooked for 1500 Engineer trainees, 3 times a day. I made spec4. Got tired of duty there and after listening to all the conversations, arguments about the Vietnam conflict, I decided to 1049 to that country to see for myself. My father told me not to, what did he know.....can't tell me anymore what to do, I know what I'm doing..
besides what kind of trouble could a cook get into....to be continued, only if wanted here. Otherwise it will be in my book......
1b)--the thing I remember when I stepped out of the airliner at Bien Hoa airbase was the putrid sourness of the air. As an american used to clean, I can never forget the smell of that country. The huge base at Long Bihn was my next stop in the 90th Replacement company where I found out I would be going to Bear Cat/Long Thanh in the delta, in the boonies. Yeah I said, "oh shit". It was an old French airfield of Dien Phu era and subsequent defeat of those 'conquerors'. It was used by the Japanese during WW2, and was the base camp for 9th Infantry units, 7th battalion-9th artillery and 240th Aviation among others...Cobras and gunship transport for 9th INF and 1st INF. Our company was maintenance and logistics for all them.
It was a base camp located 15miles southeast of Saigon and a little further south from Long Bihn. Long Thanh airbase and Bear Cat base camp was always a target of the rain of 122mm rockets the Viet Cong sent our way weekly and during the mini tet of 69, nightly--rotary wing helicopter units and artillery units were the major units/targets, plus any human casualties that ended up in the mix. Also, the 9th Infantry units until they moved deeper into the Delta, were always bringing in the rockets because of the piss they brought to the VC in the bush and we were stationed close to them. Then The Royal Thai Army and 1st Infantry units moved in to replace the 9th. The Thais didn't play neither the Big Red 1, so many, many rockets. Three of us Mac, myself and Spud, a PFC cook like me arrived late afternoon after the long ride in a deuce and a half, with NO weapon from Long Bihn on a very busy, I thought, route, Nov 16, 68.
The 1st Sgt greeted us with a "your hooch is to the right....you're upstairs" you get your assignments in the morning after reveille. Yeah our little OCS C.O. always had us in tight lineup formation, yeah very stupid, every morning giving us our pep talk about what a fucking difference we were making here helping the Vietnamese stop communism and then some shit about some domino theories dreamed up by that goddamn kissinger. But yeah two story hooches in Vietnam, it made us better targets, shrapnel flies up as well as out. That night I got my baptism. Around 0130 I awoke to "incoming"!!!!...groggily I came to consciousness with my soon to be very best buddy Friar Tuck shaking the shit out of me and soldiers around me clamoring and running. Then one rocket hit close with the incoming shrill and then explosion. I was on my feet and in my boots, flak jacket and out the door, running to the bunker, with those rockets now coming in hot and heavy, in my underwear....I wondered why they were laughing among themselves as I undressed for bed....I never slept out of my pants again. The noise of those damn death dealers, damn, you talk about scared, I was terrified.
Our outgoing artillery was now adding to the calamitous cacophony of war. Shit blowing up, people screaming and we could only sit in that bunker wondering, does one have our name on it. I could see it in most faces, close to me. Tuck just sat there stoic. I didn't feel stoic and my faced showed it because he kind of smiled at my look.......more later
1c)--DEC 31, 2017
as we walked out the bunker the next morning I was chastened beyond belief. The destruction was pretty revealing as to the violence war brings to soldiers. In the area of the helicopter pads, lots of smoke. Shitters at the back of the company area, gone. The hooch had some new holes but was still standing. "Get to your assignment" Sgt. Erickson shouted.
I dressed and headed toward the mess hall. Cleanup was going on full time. Cobras and gunships were taking off again. Didn't look like the artillery placements were hit, no smoke. But what the fuck did I know. Being a cherryboy, I had no idea now what I was in for,
yet I was to learn base camp life was quite different from the john wayne shit I grew up with. First was we couldn't shoot back. All these munitions falling on our heads and not a goddamn thing to do about it. First feeling I had of being used as some cannon fodder to sate the blood lust of the god(s) of war. Walking into the small company mess hall was a hell of a lot different from the cavernous mess hall I was used to. He, we fed 200+ men, that was actually a relief. Spud was there and greeted me, "hey corporal". "Hey Spud what you think of this place"? "Looks like it'll be easy duty, 'cept for what happened last night". "yeah that was fucked up". The mess sgt came from the back with a "you ain't seen nuthin' yet...a small smirk on his face...jensen, big black guy, laughed out loud from where he was stirring a pot in the back. Same type of laugh I heard when I was undressing for bed.
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Jan 8 18...because of my losing Internet service and tele...I have been reduced to a phone and iPad. I can read and respond fairly well...but as far as writing, I do find writing on this electronic marvel tedious... when my budget stabilizes, hopefully in a few months...costs for cancer related treatments and agent orange symptoms related medications...budget is fucked.... can't really afford cable-inter et costs...when I BEAT THIS ALIEN IN MY BODY...I will resume
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These are life stories we need to hear.
This IS the American story. 
as they are told, they are a part of the american experience....
I will wait right here. 
Yours, and so many others, is a story that needs to be shared. Thank you for being willing to tell it!
I will do my best
