Being shot is no fun On one of our search and destroy mission, near the end of my first tour I was ask to go forward of the company, that was digging in, and to set up a LP (listening post) and forward spotter. My memory tells me it is early afternoon and that we were expecting a big push from the NVA (North Vietnamese Army), they were hardcore fighters. Traditionally this was a two-man team, a radioman and spotter. They gave me a new man to the unit, it would be his first mission and week in Vietnam. I do not remember anything about him but his willingness to go out with me. (New recruits were always gung ho, Ignorance is a blessing sometime) If he only knew how concerned I was about this mission. There was something about it that did not feel right. My gut was telling me to be very careful. It was a very over cast day. I remember the eerie quiet and the punji pit that I found earlier that Day. We were to go out about a klick (1000 meters) and find a place with some cover and so that we could see a large area. I remember it was a very large rice patty with little cover but for a couple of palm trees. It looked like a small island floating in the middle of the patties. This would be the best we could do. I called back to let the Captain know where we were and settled in. After a short time, I thought I saw some movement in a tree line and I called back and asked for a round from the 105 howitzer. Captain said get me more info before we fired a round. More info? This meant that I would have to move to a new location closer to the trees. As I write this, my heart is beating faster and I am feeling a little panicky. I can remember like it was yesterday what happen next. I told the kid to set tight, gave him information needed for artillery support, took a very deep breath and got up and began to run as close to the ground as I could. ( I am not sure that I expected to survive but orders are orders) The tree line was about 100 meters to the west of us, I got about 25 feet and the tree line came alive with ak47 fire. The ak47 had a different kind of sound I can hear yet today. This was not my first encounter with the enemy but it was the one with the fewest number of options. The only option was to hit the ground behind a one-foot high dike, not really much cover. I was safe for the moment but I could not stay there long I had to move. The kid was yelling are you ok, I am yelling to shut the…… up and call in what was happing. I needed to get turned around and get back to better cover. (Think about one foot of cover I could not even raise my head up to see what was happening in the tree line.) As I turned around to make a run for better cover, I felt IT, my legs came out from under me, I was shot. A few choice words as I laid there and then yelled back to the kid tell the Captain, more choice words, that we need the artillery now. I crawled back to the relative safety of the tree. The kid is a little shook up and wants to help me. He pulls out his newly issued Ka-bar to cut open my pants to help stop the bleeding. His knife was so dull I do not think it would have cut butter. Mind on the hand would have cut anything like it was butter. I got him refocused and made sure that there was no movement out of tree line towards us. Put a battle dressing on to help stop the bleeding. They were randomly shooting now not real sure where we were and that was good. We did nothing to give away our position. The next thing I remember is a Marine, with no name today (sorry friend) coming towards us working his way through the dikes. He gets up to us and said “I am going to get you the …… out of here”. I am not sure what I was thinking at the time but as I look back there was no artillery fire and only one man? I do remember that he grabbed me threw me over his shoulders and began to run to the rear, not sure where the kid was but I am sure that he did not hang around the LP. Back then I weighted about 130-140 and he was running like his life depended on it, oh it did. I could hear the cracks of the ak47s. We made it to our line with one last obstacle a drainage ditch between safety and us. I can laugh now about what happened next, the man that most likely saved my life who has just ran a half mile under enemy fire trips at the top of the ditch and throws me into two to three foot of water that is full of all kinds of shit, literally. The Marines on the other side of the ditch dragged me out. The Marine that saved me is yelling, I’m sorry, I think he was laughing no I know I was. A medic came up pulled me back to a clearing and started to clean me up. There are few things I really remember about the rest of the day. But I do remember that he gave me some morphine (not bad stuff as I remember) and soon there was another Marine that was next to me that had be shot in the head. We laid there for two days, I think, listening to battle that was going on. I remember asking when they were going to get the other guy out of here (he was hurt bad) and they told me that the LZ was too hot for a medical chopper. I have often made discouraging, to put it lightly, comment about the army. It seemed that we would no longer get settled in at home base and we had to go out again to get a army unite, including the infamous green berets, out of trouble. But this was one time I was very glad to see medical chopper coming, flown by army pilots. I was told that they were the only ones willing to come in after us. The Army chopper pilots were the best not because of just this day but they were the ones that when I needed support in my second tour were there for us. Da Nang Navy hospital and Cam Ranh Bay Air force hospital I remember waking up in the hospital and was told in Da Nang. I looked around and it was mostly empty. They took my into surgery and dug around to find the round that was still in their. I remember a lot of pain and one of the doctors saying let just leave it in there and then saying to me, making a joke and laughing, one leg will just be a little heavy than the other. The next thing I remember is waking up and the ward was filled, not sure how many. One of the guys, from my unit came over to my bed and told me that they had taken heavy casualties and one of our buddies had got it bad and asked if I wanted to go see him. I said sure. We walked through a tunnel and came into what must have been a critical care unit. A nurse came up to us and ask what we wanted, me hang on to the should of my friend him with a large patch over his eye, we told her we wanted to see our friend. She looked around and quietly only for a moment. He looked bad, you did not need to be a doctor to know he was dieing. We talked to him, he could not answer, we talked trash and macho thing about the googs and how we make them pay and how many we would kill. We were told, by the nurse that let us in, I am sure it was against the rules that he had died shortly after our visit. When I got back to my bed a less than compassionate nurse asked where I had, not listening for the answer or caring, told me to get back in bed. I am not sure how long I sleep but when woke up a little I looked at my leg and tried to pull up pants leg to what it looked like and could not got the attention of a orderly. He got a nurse who got a doctor that got me air lifted out to Cam Ranh Bay Hospital. Infection had set in and there were so many wounded that no one had been checking on me. I would later learn that gangrene had set in. Cam Ranh Bay Hospital (Air Force) late at night I am rushed into surgery. All the surgeon could talk about was that he was going home to Colorado in a few hours (not sure why I remember that). They took and x-ray, prepared my for surgery. I remember them talking about how they were going to go in remove the bullet. They turned me over on my stomach and decided that it would be easier to get it out from the other side of the enter wound. My leg was huge; it looked like if you would take a pin and puncher it, it would explode. That is just what happened as he cut in to my leg. I remember the surgeon yelling that he did not need this shit on his last day in country. It was not as easy as he thought began to dig around in my let for the bullet, the pain of him digging around in my calf was tremendous and he kept promising it would only be just a little longer. Not sure how long it took him to find it but I remember him saying I got it. What he did after that I have no idea, I do remember waking up in the ward. My recovery would start. Recovery time would be short the need for grunts (warm bodies) was great. The ward that I was in was filled not with combat wounded but Air Force personnel having, vasectomy, circumcisions, broken arms and various what seemed to be minor things at the time. The first few days after they removed the bullet from my leg they would come by every couple of hours and draw blood. One night I remember the person was taking my blood said opps, still half asleep I said what do you mean opps! It seems he broke the needle off in my arm, he said do not move, where was I going to go, I will be right back. The nurse came back and remove the broken off piece. My leg had like a soft rubber tube in the wound to keep my leg from healing up and to allow it to drain and did it drain. They would come by every few hours, remove the bandages clean around it, and put new bandages back on. One day the orderly came by doing what they always did and I see the drainage tube come out as he pulled the bandage out, and then I could not believe what he did next, he took his finger and jammed the tube back in, that hurt. I had a few choice words, and told him to get the nurse; she got the doctor and decided that I no longer needed the drain. Rehab started and consisted of walking around, not allow to limp, and a slight incline board. In a week I was ready to go back to combat. USO outing to go see Bob Hope and company. They load us up in busses; all were WIA’s and took us out to the show. At that time I was still on crutches some were on cots but most were in wheel chairs. They located us near the back of the audience behind the tower that the lighting, sound and cameras where. What we could see or hear was great. I asked if some of guys on the cots could get a little closer. I got no answer. On November 20, 1968 I turned 21 in Cam Ranh Bay Hospital. The chaplain, which I had gotten to know a Roman Catholic priest, came by with a birthday present for me. It was in a small blue bag. He handed it to me and I opened it, Crown Royal. He handed me a paper cup and we toasted my birthday, a lot. The next day the nurse found the Crown Royal, took it, and said that I was not allow to have booze in the ward. Few days later, I was on flight back to Da Nang to rejoin my unit. Posted 1/23/15 Page 17
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 14:02:30 +0000
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