Veterans Day is the 11th day of November. If you see a veteran or love the way we live, just say “Thank you!” Just remember, it’s because of veterans that we can live in a free country. The following is a continuing story of my experience in Vietnam, where I became a veteran.
I was being transferred from Special Forces to conventional Infantry. I was a Second Lieutenant in the Infantry Branch of the Army. In case you didn’t know, Infantry is the Queen of Battle. It is the most coveted of all branches of the Army. Although you will hear of Artillery, or other branches, they are all there to support the Infantry.
Infantry carry with them, in a rucksack, all the accruements of battle. Canteens for water (in Vietnam you always carried at least two canteens and sometimes as many as four), grenades, a rifle and extra ammunition. You didn’t carry any extra clothing because you received fresh uniforms and new boots about three times a month. The humidity just made you sweat all the time and you had to replenish the water in your body or terrible things could happen.
You also carried clean socks, extra ammunition, extra food in tin cans and writing supplies because you could write a letter home when you stopped patrolling for the night. You wrote a lot because you wanted to get mail. There was nothing as coveted as receiving a letter from home. When you did receive a letter, sometimes you would trade with another soldier just to get a letter from home. Often a soldier who had a sister back home would ask her to write one of his buddies just to remind us that there were people back home waiting for us. I hadn’t written any letters yet, as I didn’t have anyone waiting for me.
I was put on a truck along with about 20 other soldiers and transported to the Battalion Headquarters of the 1st of the 173rd. I was still sulking a little because I had trained for over 20 weeks to be a Special Forces officer and now I was going into a company that was called a Leg Company. They were called Legs because they always got to where they were going by walking. Special Forces soldiers also walked, but we liked to think we were a little better for some reason. It had to be all the courses we had been taught on how to survive.
As I was standing there wondering what was where or who was in charge, a short, dark Sergeant E-8 named Nathan came over and started yelling at us. He told us to get inside this big tent provided for us and he would teach us what duty in Vietnam was all about. I was standing at the back of the tent because I still thought that if I just could explain to whoever was in charge they would straighten out their mistake and get me over to the Special Forces battalion.
“Hey Sweetheart!” Sgt. Nathan yelled. “Can I beg a few minutes of your time so I can teach you how to survive your first night in the boonies?” For a short man, this Nathan guy had a very loud voice. Almost everyone had a seat and Nathan started telling us about booby traps and dangers that were on trails we would be patrolling. “Bury all your cans and paper when you stop for food or to rest.”
“Charley doesn’t have as much as you do, but he knows how to camouflage anything, and you won’t know it until you sit down and get you’re a— blown off.” Whatever any of us were thinking about our situation, we were probably wrong. This class on surviving was full of valuable information and everyone quieted down and paid attention.
I still had my beret in my back pocket and had just about accepted the fact that I was not going into a Special Forces assignment when, out of nowhere, a Captain walked up and told me that he was my Company commander. He smiled at my insistence that I would surely get transferred as soon as I could get things understood.
“Listen to me Lieutenant, you are the platoon leader of Second platoon, of Delta Company of the 3rd Battalion of the 173 Airborne. I am Captain Webster and I am the Company Commander of Delta Company. I have heard of your wish to get into Special Forces and wish that I could help you, but our Battalion was hit with a friendly bomb the other night and we need good officers to replace the men we lost. I want you to call me ‘Webb’ and don’t salute me or give any sign that I am an officer when we get to the bush. I’ll do the same for you. Charley loves to shoot officers, so we kind of lay low. Don’t wear anything that indicates your rank and make sure your men are aware that they don’t salute or call you sir. I would hate to lose someone for a stupid mistake.” I liked him right away.
“Now get with your platoon Sergeant, his name is Scooter. Sgt. Scooter is a fine non-commissioned Officer and has been over here for three years. You can learn a lot from him so listen more than talk and let’s all go home when we are supposed to.” He then turned around and walked off. I was standing there not knowing where I was supposed to go when this salty looking Sergeant walked up to me and said, “Hey Lute!” I was taken aback for just a moment, and then remembered what “Webb” had told me. “Come with me,” Scooter said, “and I’ll introduce you to the platoon.”
So this was my introduction to life in Vietnam. I had already made silly mistakes and the day wasn’t even over. I turned to Sgt. Nathan and said, “I know you can’t tell, but I have been a platoon leader over in Germany. I was promoted after I had made Honor Graduate from the European NCO Academy. Just help me out here if you can.” He replied, “Lute, with your attitude you’ll do fine. Just come with me to our hooch and I’ll introduce you.”
Next week, “Introduction to a Hot LZ.”
God Bless.
