First Day On The Job; Vietnam, 1969

Y'know how your first day on a new job is suppose to be a sort of  'breaking in' experience?   Somebody welcomes you at the door, shows you around the workplace, introduces you to your co-workers.   Maybe you take a coffee break with them, to kind of establish the first blush of an interpersonal bond.   Probably the Boss takes you into his office and tells you what to expect, and just were you fit in.

September 29, 1969:   First Infantry Division Base Camp at Dian, Republic of Vietnam

I had been in country for a week, during which time I went through In-processing  and assigned to the First Division.  We had a day in the repo-depot first ("replacement depot"), where we were 'housed' in crude buildings and slept on cots with springs but no mattresses no mattresses. We were given one pair of jungle fatigues, one pair of boots, and a helmet.  No underwear except for an Olive Drab T0shirt; nobody wore underpants in Viet Nam because of the heat and the humidity..  We also received 'back pay' ... I was issued $355 ... in five dollar bills.  I walked around with this wad in my pocket until I was assigned to a Company, when it went into the Company Safe by the First Sgt.

We went through a two-day "refresher" training where, since we were Infantry, we did "Patrol Exercises".  Nobody was issued ammunition, although we had M-16 rifles.

At Day Six, I was told I would join my platoon (Third platoon, or "Third Herd") of Lima Company 1st of the 16th, the next day. I would be picked up by the resupply helicopter at 0900, but I would be given ammunition by the Executive Officer at 0800.  Also .. magazine carriers, "Light combat" (LC or 'Alice') butt-pack and webgear, etc. would be issued an hour before the liftoff.

Sure enough the helicopter was at the appointed place at the appointed time, and so was I.  I had my ten magazines (loaded to 18 rounds hardball each) three canteens of luke-warm water, harness, aid kit (a bandage suitable for wrapping around my chest in case I suffered a "sucking chest wound").  They didn't issue me my claymore mine, but we all carried one as a rule.  Oh, and no insignia was to show unless it was 'demure', which means it was black and nobody could tell your rank unless they were close enough to touch you.

This was the big day, I was finally out of school forever.  I climbed aboard the Uh-1 "Huey" helicopter, capable of carrying 6 combat-loaded infantry men.  There was me, and a stack of C-rations four feet high, wide and deep.  Plus about a dozen 5-gallon disposable plastic jugs of water.

Plus the pilot, co-pilot, and crew-chief/door-gunner with his bungie-cord-mounted M-60 .30 caliber machine gun.
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That was when I  discovered the Thrill of Flying!  It was great!  When you're 1,000 feet high, the heat and the humidity don't matter.  Both side-doors were open and for the first time since the 737 jet had landed at the airport in Saigon, I wasn't sweating and the air didn't smell of rotten lettuce!

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INSERTION:

20 minutes later we landed in what I later learned had been a "hot LZ".  The Landing Zone was under fire from VC troops (or NVA ... who knew who was shooting at us?  I rarely knew that much about the enemy unless we were close enough to actually see them) and all the Crew Chief had to say was:

"OUT!  OUT!  OUT OF THE CHOPPER NOW!   But first, grab a couple of C-cases 'cause we're dumping our load right here right now!"


So I slung my rifle, and with a case of C's under each arm (same size and weigh of a case of Budweiser Beer, I discovered: I can do this!) I jumped the four feet from the deck of the chopper to the floor of the small clearing which was --- soggy.  I sank up to my ankles in muck, stumbled, dropped the C's, planted my face in the ground in the Front Leaning Rest Position.


Welcome to The Real Viet Nam.

Nobody picked me up, but they surely picked up the C's.   I later learned that this was all the food that a full platoon had available to eat for the next two or three days.  They had their priorities, and a FNG  (F*cking New Guy .. even if he was a Staff Sergeant and a potential Platoon Sergeant) was not among the things they cared about.

That was Lesson 1.
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DURATION:
SOMEBODY came around and mentioned quickly that they were taking fire from the woodline across the way (an open area) and that they were going to be picked up in 10 minutes to be re-inserted in another area.  For general information, they would NOT break down (distribute) the food now; they would carry it individually to the next LZ.

I got the impression that their priorities were:

1. Get the hell out of here
2. save the food
3. make sure everyone got on their assigned chopper
4. leave nobody .. even the FNG .. behind

I found some comfort there, even though I had no idea what was going on.

In fact, the first Eagle Flight (five helicopters each) had already left, carrying the Platoon Leader (Lieutenant Commanding), Radio Operators for all 3 squads, and most of the men before Specialist 4 Somebody told me what was going on.

There was an unknown force of unknown force of unknown size "plinking at us" from the treeline across the open area .. I already had figured out that the 'open area' was tall grass in a bog .. nobody could cross it in an assault, but it provided good visual acquisition of any targets who were so stupid as to stand out in the open.

Unfortunately, the only place where the helicopters could land to pick up our troops was at the verge, where the bog wasn't so deep.  The choppers couldn't actually LAND, of course, but they could hover "real close" to the ground.  Comforting thought, that, and it explained my face-plant when I jumped out of the chopper a few minutes ago.

Has it only been ten minutes?  And why isn't anyone shooting at us now?  There are still a dozen troops here .. the army will have to send at least two more choppers to complete the extraction.

The Nameless Spec4  (Specialist Fourth Class .. what the Marines would call a Lance Corporal) I had been talking to explained it to me.

"They're waiting for the helicopters to come back.  They know we're here, and they know we're not going to stay.  here, so when the choppers pick us up they'll unload with everything they've got as soon as we load onto the birds.  That's when the bad shit starts."

He had an idea, though, and he had  an M-72 Rocket Anti-Tank Missile (disposable).  Actually, that's the American version of the RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) ... reasonably accurate up to 400 yards (yeah, right!) and although it is an Armor Piercing Missile, if it hits a tree trunk it could conceivably be considered an "area weapon".  His plan was that as soon as the choppers hit 'hover', he would fire the M-72 into the opposing woodline.  That should disconcert (not his word) the opposition (not his word either) long enough for us to board and lift off.

Damn!  He was the ugliest man I had ever seen, but he was at that moment the smartest man I had ever met.  I agreed with his plan, and when the final 2 choppers came in for the pickup, I told him to pick his time and do his stuff.  It barely crossed my mind that I had the rank and the training, but he had the smarts and whatever he suggested I would agree to.

LESSON 2
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Extraction:
So the choppers came in, started their landing (they had to hover first because we were in the trees and they were in the open), and Spec4 Ugly launched his rocket against the treeline.

WHAM!

I made sure he carried the empty M-72 tube ("Charley" could use it for a mortar, or a booby trap) but we hopped onto the chopper and I swear we walked across the water getting to the PZ (Pickup Zone)!

Later, we learned that the first Eagle Flight had taken fire; the bird that the LT, his radioman, his platoon medic and his closest people were on had several AK-47 strikes against the floor of the chopper, but nobody was injured and the bird wasn't injured.





We received NO incoming fire during our extraction, as nearly as I could tell.  The Crew Chief was working the woodline with his M60, and we had a couple of attack choppers providing covering fire.  Well, we may have been shot out, but we weren't hit and nobody bled; that's good enough news for any hot extraction.
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The SOI in the Swamp:
Five minutes or an hour later (I was still on some kind of adrenalin rush, my sense of time was short-circuited so I have no idea how much time had elapsed) we were the last pair of choppers to put down in our new Area of Operations.  I never learned why we were sent there.

We disembarked on what turned out to be the wrong side of a swamp.  It was essentially open water (as opposed to the grassy bog which had been my first real introduction to Viet Nam terrain), but the place where we put boots on the ground was relatively high and dry.

The first order of business was to distribute the C-rations and the water.   Everybody took enough C-rats to last them for the next two days (six rats, 3 per day) and there was some squabbling about who got which of their favorite foods.  I later learned that this was typical; the first thing you do is grab food and disperse.  Later, you can horse-trade, but it gives you a stronger 'trading position' if you can get your favorites first.  Second priority .. get something you know somebody else wants; you can always jerk him around and end up with better food.

Then the Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Maverick, sought me out and introduced himself to me.  I am using mostly nom de'gueres here; not to protect them but because it was 40 years ago and I don't remember everyone's names.  He had been an E6 Staff Sgt, but went to OCS for his commission.  They call this transition from NCO to Officer a "MAVERICK", so that works for me.

He told me that they were going to distribute their resupply, burn the excess, then move east across the northern edge of what was called "The Heart Shaped Woods".

This was a notorious VC/NVA  sanctuary.  It was all low brush ... mostly less than 6' high but very dense.  It was guarded by booby traps and ambushes at all times.  We were looking for trails, and for VC/NVA hunting parties who were looking for game or other food sources to feed the majority of the units which were known to be hiding there.
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SOI:
There was one problem, which escalated to another.

First, we had to cross a large, wide (if shallow) swamp to get to the Heart Shaped Woods.  It was only knee-deep, but had a soft silty bottom and footing was tricky.  We crossed it single-file, widely separated so as to offer the smallest possible number of targets in what was, essentially, an open area.

Unfortunately, the Platoon Kilo (Radio Man), slipped and fell into the water.  He struggled back to his feet and completed the crossing, but a few minutes later he discovered that he had lost his "S.O.I."


The SOI (Strategic Operating Index, if I recall it correctly) was his Radio Code Book.  It had all the daily codes for the entire Division in it, and it was classified TOP SECRET!



We needed to have it, almost as much as we need Charley to NOT have it!

1.  Each page was a daily "one time" code, upon which all of our radio transmissions would be based.   Without it we could not be confident that our transmissions would be 'transparent' to Charley.
2. If we couldn't recover it, we would have to resort to 'ad hoc' obfuscations, such as "we are 3 clicks north of the blue line, and 1 click west of the red line'.  "Blue line" is a water source, such as a river, and usually the most prominent terrain feature on the map we were currently using .. designated by a six-digit code.  "Red line" was a road, usually the main road on the same map.  Unfortunately, Charley had maps, too, and he could usually tell the general area from our transmission strength, so this was exceedingly poor security.  We obviously did not want the enemy to know our location, even in general terms (within 1000 meters).
3. If Charley found the SOI (code book), he would have the codes for EVERY transmission in the Division for the rest of the month. 

So ... most of the platoon spent the next x-minutes (20?) wading through the swamp, looking for the SOI.

We never found it.  Instead, the LT decided that it was too dangerous for us to linger in a known insertion LZ, and we should move out.  Besides, if we couldn't find the SOI .. by the time Charley found it, it would be too soggy to be readable.  He checked with "higher" (ie: Division Command) and received permission to 'combat loss' the SOI.  Bonuse: we would be extracted before nightfall, and a new emergency SOI would be issued "soon".  ( I doubt that ever happened, but it could have.)

So, we performed three actions before we moved out to check the perimeter of The Heart Shaped Woods":

1. We distributed the water, and the C-rations; we could move farther, faster, when we had no load other than what we carried in our Alice Butt-Packs.  (I knew by then just how much it slowed a man down to carry a case of C-rations ... and you were NOT combat-ready in that configuraion!)  LESSON 3
2. We dug a hole, and put all the leftovers in there, and lit them on fire.  This includes the used PRC-25 (Personal Radio Combat/Model 25) batteries; they got hot and blew up which along with the general fire helped keep the left-behinds from becoming assets to the enemy.  They LOVED our C-rations!
3. We designated a 'rear guard', a small (3-man) detachment to watch our back trail.  They could see if Charley sneaked in to steal our left-overs, and fire him up.  They could tell if Charley was searching the bog for the lost SOI.  And finally, they could tell if Charley was following us on our patrol.

We heard the Batteries blow up as we worked our way away from the swamp.  Twenty minutes later, after the fire in the disposal pit had died out, our rear guard caught up with us.  They saw nothing, they saw nobody. On the other hand, who knows how long they really stayed that far behind us?  It's possible that they may have waited only a few minutes before they started following us.  I never knew; I never asked.
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Oh-Oh:
I was assigned (informally) a position halfway down the single-file line of our platoon.  I couldn't see the Platoon Leader near the head of the line; I couldn't see the rear element.  I was was the Senior NCO in the platoon at the moment, but I had not been designated the Platoon Sergeant.  I was still a "FNG"  (F*cking New Guy), and  I was learning quickly things that they had NEVER told us in NCO School.

My DTQ  ("Daily Terror Quotient") was humming around between 40% and 80%;  I was scared all the time, but not enough to panic and just enough to keep me from becoming complaisant.

Being a FNG, I didn't realize it at the time; but it was turning out to be a pretty good day.

Then it got worse.

"Uh .. Sarge?"

This was the guy walking behind me.  His name was Tennesee, and he was a 6'5" blonde from Tennesee who carried a Tennessee Toothpick and an M-60 Machine Gun.  (Note to myself:  I have GOT to get some knives over here!)  Have I mentioned he was from Tennessee?  He never let us forget it!

I stopped, turned around, and he had this most odd expression on his face.  Consternation, embarrassment, apology, and the reek of fear.

"Yeah, what?"  (I wasn't in a mood for conversation; don't know why, since I had only been shot at deliberately for the first time in my life ...

"Uh ... Sarge?  I think I'm hung up here.  I think I'm standing on a Booby Trap.  Can you fix it?  What do I do now?"


"DO NOT MOVE!  KEEP YOUR FOOT RIGHT WHERE IT IS NOW!"






Okay, so I called (softly) for the folks ahead to pass the word; stop now, and send the platoon leader back down the line now!

The LT comes down the line.  He wasn't chewing tobacco, but he should have been.

"Yep, that's a booby trap.  Probably two or three hand grenades, with wire between the rings holding the pins in.  If he moves, it's gonna blow up sure as shit.  Sarge, you may want to move your folks back a ways?  And someone send for my  Chu Hoi, okay?"

I'm channeling the theme from "JAWS", and Spielberg hadn't even made the movie yet.

The term "Chu Hoi" is vietnamese.  It's an "I Surrender!" phrase.  Ex-Viet Cong who are captured are given the choice to be re-educated or to suffer lesser punishment; I think there's a "firing squad" option in there somewhere, but actually they get more food and less political bullshit than they did from the VC, so Chu Hoi's tend to make pretty good assets.  They call them "Tiger Scouts" and they get special camouflage uniforms.

And they know all about booby traps.  Lord knows they've set enough of them.

So this Chu Hoi (which is NOT a derisive term!) comes wandering down with a toothpick hanging over  his lips and says "yep, booby trip.  I fix."

I took it upon myself to direct the rest of the platoon to "form a permeter, at least 20 meters radius" (American Hand Grenades have a 5 meter "kill zone") and 'get down'.  Best order I ever gave; everybody obeyed it immediately .. except for Tennesee, of course.

The Chu How knelt down beside Tennessee, and said: "don't move until I tell you".  Good advice.

The "device"  (it would be called an IED, or Improvised Explosive Device in today's terms) featured 3 hand grenades .. American, who knows where they got them ... mostly buried in the ground' their top part was above ground, the rings were above ground.  There were thin wires between the three rings, and the pins were straightened, which means that it was very easy to pull the pins by pulling the wires.

The wires were very slack; they stood up above the top of the grenades, so it was easy to hook on to them with your foot if you happened to be using the most obvious path and were experienced enough that you SLID your foot instead of picking it up and laying it down.  (*I was so green, I hadn't yet learned yet how to walk in the jungle.)*

Tennessee's shoe-laces on his boots were all jammed up in the wires.  it took some doing, but the Chu Hoi managed to untangle the wires and the laces, and softly talk Tennessee into moving his foot back, and out of the entanglement.

Finally, the machine-gunner was free of the wires.    We didn't bother to try to recover the booby trap; we just put a Claymore mine right beside it, and detonated the entire array with a 50' wire which command-detonated the 'mine'.  All three devices flew up, after we were hunkered down in a safe position  at a safe distance.  Well, except for the Chu Hoi .. he was given the "clacker" which initiated the device; he was still proving his reliability, this was a part of his initiation process.

Frankly, the whole rest of the day was a fog.  I have no idea what happened after the booby trap was demolished.  And I don't much care, 'cause it was much of a nothing.  We set up an ambush on the booby trap site, but nobody came to check it out.

I learned from that;  if you set up a booby trap, and it blows up ... you stay away from it until "The Other Guys" have a chance to clear the area.  They're gong to be pissed.

Of course .. you set up a secondary booby-trap, just to catch them.

But that's another story.
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I was glad when my First Day On The Job Ended.  I figured .. that's going to be my worst day on the job.

I was wrong, of course.

And .. I still only knew the names of four people:  SP4, Tennessee, LT, and Chu Hoi,

I would learn the rest of them eventually.
It didn't help much, though; especially when they started dying.