Dwight Davis   February 1970

 

In February, 1970, we finally made it back to the division base camp for a much-deserved stand down which we really enjoyed. During our stay at the division base camp Captain Magee arranged for some training.  We did an exercise about taking a bunker complex.  We also got an opportunity to do some rappelling which I really enjoyed.  I had loved to do rappelling when I was in NCOC.  In addition to rappelling off a wall, we got to free fall from a helicopter which was major fun.  I and one of my buddies got to go first and we came down so fast we actually seared the ropes.  Of course when you are loaded with your rucksack and weapon the additional weight adds to the speed of decent.   This was about the most fun I ever had in base camp, not counting the few occasions where we got drunk.

We got some new FNGs during this time period including two very good men, Sergeant Mike Jones and Sergeant Joe Kehlenbach.  Mike was from a small town in Kentucky and worked as a lineman for the phone company before he got drafted.  Joe was from New York City and had some troubles along the way including a brother who was a drug addict.  Joe also used drugs (marijuana and speed) I was to find out later, although never in the boonies.  Both of these guys were Shake and Bake NCOs and became squad leaders in my platoon.  Mike was good enough to run the whole platoon and did so when I went on R&R in June.  Mike became my best friend in the platoon.   He was a great guy who worked hard, was tough and had a good sense of humor.  He once showed us a photo of his wife, who was very attractive, in some skimpy negligee.  He was proud of her and we were also.  I learned from Mike and Joe that our company was considered hot stuff back in the rear because of our firefight on January 19.  We were proud of that, I suppose; however, it did not compensate for the guys who died there. 

We also got a “Kit Carson Scout” during this period.  Eventually, every rifle platoon got a guy who was a Hoi Chan (returnee).  These were guys who had fought with the VC then turned themselves into American units, which was called Chu Hoi.  They received indoctrination and some training, and then were assigned to American units.  The theory was that they could assist American units because they were familiar with the terrain and the tactics of the bad guys.  Many of us Grunts thought that, at least some were actually still VC.  I was never certain how these guys were controlled because they seemed to come and go as they pleased taking trips to visit family and what else we had no notion.  During my tour, my platoon had two different scouts.  One for only a short time who was pretty lazy.  The other; however, was an impressive man.  His name was Hua.  He had been pressed into service of the VC when he was 14 years old and had fought with them for 6 years.  He was handsome and very muscular although still small by American standards.  He proved to be a tough guy and fierce fighter.  Apparently, one way the VC got people to stay with them was to tell them that their family would suffer if they left.  In Hua’s case, within two months of his Chu Hoi, his parents were killed.  He was a bitter guy, largely because of that.  I do not believe we learned much from Hua about the bad guys tactics, etc.; however, he was a good comrade, always doing his part and prepared to fight on our behalf. 

            Hua became a legend one day chewing tobacco.  We had taught Hua how to chew tobacco and encouraged him to do so when we were moving through the boonies because the smell of cigarette smoke carried quite a ways and potentially gave away your position.  On this occasion we were being airlifted from the rear to the boonies.   Hua and I were sitting next to each other on one side of the helicopter.  A few minutes after we took off, Hua decided it was time to spit out the tobacco. We had explained that swallowing it was a bad idea.  He gave a good spit right out the side of the helicopter and the rest of what happened was like a cartoon.  The spit went out a couple of feet then, with the force of the wind came back into the helicopter and hit the door gunner in the face.  He was not a happy camper.  When we hit the LZ, Hua and I boogied off at an angle so the door gunner could not shoot us with his M-60 machine gun. 

Hua became very good friends with one of my squad leaders, John Stone.  A couple of months later Stone lucked out and got a neat job in Vung Tau teaching Vietnamese soldiers English.  He had no background in such instruction; he was just selected, apparently at random by someone in Higher Higher.  Vung Tau was a resort community and actually considered to be an in-country R&R

(Rest and Recreation) center.  It had beautiful beaches and lots of restaurants and bars.  We heard that the VC vacationed there as well and did not mess with Americans there so they would not screw up their own R&R center.  Stone wound up with a live-in girl friend who screwed his brains out and generally lived the good life for approximately six months.  He came back to our unit a few days before he left Vietnam and got reacquainted with Hua.  He told Hua he wished he could take him back home to Texas with him.  Hua, whose knowledge of the U.S. was limited to movies he had seen, said:  “Ah, Texas Number 1 (very good -- Number 10 is very bad), GI shoot other GI and take money, Number 1!”  Apparently, he thought that armed robbery was legitimate in Texas.

It was during February, 1970, that I had my first personnel problem.  This incident involved Private Poole.  He was a Brother who was an awful malingerer.   We were on a forward firebase when he failed to show up for perimeter guard duty one night.  The next day my buddy Sergeant Mike Jones and I set him up.  We called him over and told him exactly when he was supposed to report for perimeter guard duty that night.  He said he understood; then, I repeated:  “You are telling me, in the presence of Sergeant Jones, that you understand exactly when you are to report for perimeter guard duty?”  He responded affirmatively.  That night, he again was guilty of "failure to report" which meant that he did not show.  The next morning I went to see the company commander to explain what had happened and shortly thereafter Private Poole was on his way back to the rear to face court martial.  I certainly hope he was court martialed.  We had heard stories about criminals going back to the rear to be punished who wound up shamming in the rear for a while then being sent back to the field without punishment.  We hoped that Poole went to Long Binh Jail.  That was the baddest jail I ever heard of.  For punishment there, they put guys in Conex boxes, which were large heavy metal containers, used for shipping.  It would, of course, get very hot inside a Conex box in Vietnam and the guards would add to the prisoner's misery by beating on the outside periodically with their batons, which would drive the prisoners crazy.  Unfortunately, Poole came back to the platoon a short while later.