Sand bags were stacked along the outside walls of Quonset huts - gray corrugated metal arches. The sun and rain took turns beating on them alternating between dry and rainy seasons. At any time of the year, they were hot and humid as hell. Who built them? I don’t know. They were there long before I arrived. This was “home” for most of my tour.
After all these years, what does one remember about Viet Nam? I remember Larry, Rick and Frank. Like hundreds of thousands, we were drafted and sent to Viet Nam.
Larry had an easy, gentle smile and Errol Flynn good looks. His home was San Mateo, California. He majored in computer sciences in college and went to work for a bank. But Larry said he “didn’t trust banks”. He kept his money under a mattress at home. Rick was high strung and smoked a lot. He had the ability to hold two cigarettes and a pipe in his hands simultaneously. A Pennsylvanian, Rick majored in computers and worked for a large company. Frank was from Maryland and had earned an electrical engineering degree. A gentle soul, Frank should never have been drafted. After graduating with a degree in engineering science, I had only worked for a civil engineering firm for four months before receiving my draft notice.
Our primary job was to run computers and the associated programs in the data service center but at night we either guarded the perimeter or went on patrol. In the Army, everyone is considered eleven bravo – infantry soldier. When the Army wasn’t getting their money’s worth out of us, we found other things to do.
Frank decided we needed electricity and began by running new wiring to each man’s hooch. Rick put his cigarettes away and wired outlets. Larry connected overhead fans to help cool the place and make it more livable. I installed a switch in each room for lighting and fans. We considered this a major accomplishment. I never asked where Frank got the materials.
Shortly thereafter, Frank’s mom passed away. The Army sent him home on bereavement. We all thought he got out before he got dinged and we cheered for him! Several months later, Frank returned. I couldn’t believe it. If the Army had to keep him, why not keep him state side, near his family? Frank experienced every soldier’s nightmare – he went to VN, he was sent home, and worst yet, he was sent back to VN. He had changed and so had we. To maintain his sanity, we decided Frank would not go on any patrols and he’d be our “official” photographer. I still have some of his pictures of our environs.
It was rare that Larry, Rick and I got together because as squad leaders, one of us went on patrol almost every night. We knew it was a numbers game. The more you went out, the greater the odds of getting zapped. No matter what happened, our code was we would bring all our guys back. We never talked about what happened unless there was something we had to report to our “superiors”. Any other talk served no purpose.
We were excellent marksmen and each had his individual preference. Before going home, Frank liked setting claymores probably because he liked to wire them. Larry preferred the grenade launcher and mortar but always carried a large knife. Rick carried a .38 and a .44 along with his M-16. My preference was the M-16 as I felt very comfortable picking targets between 75 and 200 yards. It was similar to the size and weight of the Anschultz I learned to use as a member of the West Islip High School rifle team. Dry socks and a full canteen were pretty good items to bring along as well.
Larry discovered a source of lumber. We set about building a frame and shelves for stereo equipment even though we didn’t have any. We installed the left over plywood on the inside walls of our quarters for pinup posters. Larry wrote to his sister who sent supplies: a clasp and a lock for the cabinet, day-glow paint, posters and a black light. We thanked her via a letter. We painted the room black and threw white and occasionally yellow, orange or red dots on the ceiling. With the black light on at night, you could look at the ceiling and drift away into the stars. All we needed was stereo equipment.
Larry and I decided to buy stereo equipment however, on E-4 pay, we could afford just one component per month. We agreed to send half of our money home and the other half to fund the stereo cabinet. After a few months, we assembled a rudimentary system.
Before he left the states, Larry was married. I was standing next to him during mail call, when he received a “dear john” letter. Amazingly, he showed no emotion. He just shrugged and said, “She spent too much money, anyway.” I asked, “On what?” Larry’s one word answer was “clothes.” He never spoke of her again. Larry went on patrol that night. I think they made him soldier of the month for his actions which earned him a three-day R and R.
I told Rick and Larry about Joni, a girl I met in college. I didn’t say I missed her. I wondered out loud whether she would be there, if I got lucky and returned to the world in one piece. She was smart and pretty, a great combination. Rick said, if that were the case, she’d be dating and no doubt would get married, “for sure GI” using the Vietnamese expression. I think this had been Rick’s experience, though he never admitted it. He said he didn’t have any attachment back home so we didn’t dwell on the subject.
The day finally came when Rick’s year (tour of duty) was completed and he went back to the states. Three months later, Larry went home with half our stereo system. We had great parties on both occasions! I earned sergeant stripes and when it was my turn, I left and never looked back. And Joni did wait. We married within a year of my return.
