My Story
I was drafted in August of 1965. I was one year out of high school. I had worked that year at the General Electric Company plant, in the wire and cable division in Bridgeport Connecticut.
When I got the draft notice I went down to the Navy Recruiter to join the Navy rather than be drafted into the Army. Because I had graduated from high school the Navy guaranteed me an “A” School training in the rating of my choice. I choose to enter the Seabees as a Builder Heavy, rated for heavy construction like bridges and piers which used heavy timber construction techniques.
The Builder’s “A” school was in Port Hueneme California, but because of the huge troop buildup I wouldn’t be able to attend until the following September. So, I was given what they call Temporary Additional Duty (TAD) while waiting for the class to begin. I was first sent to Moffett Field in California, the place where the Navy had the first Blimps. But the base was scheduled for decommissioning and after a month I was shipped up to Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay. This was a weigh station for troops coming and going throughout the Pacific Theater.
The group I was with was assigned to the kitchen. There I was asked if I could cook, and I said sure, I can cook! I was made a chef assistant and assigned to a line cooking station, which consisted of two large griddles side by each. This was my duty station for mornings, fries and scrambled eggs each day and any other foods which needed to be grilled. I also worked in the preparation of all the other food which came with any meal. Vegetables, Potatoes, mashed, fried or grilled, turkeys, chickens, and roast beef in quantities I had never seen before. We were serving 200 to 2500 men each meal. A huge task with literally truckloads of food being delivered, prepared, consumed and the remains disposed of. I was there for 10 months.
When my class finally started in September, I was there for 90 days. It went by rather quickly, with classroom and on-site, hands-on practical learning. I did well graduating second in my class to a college graduate, by only two tenths of a point. Oh well, I always did my best. After “A” School, I was assigned to Mobile Construction Battalion 6, (MCB 6) which was stationed out of Davisville,or Dville, Rhode Island. I reported into the Battalion In January 1967 and we began preparations for deployment to Viet Nam.
Before a Mobile Construction Battalion goes on deployment, the troops go through training with the Marines. Being on the East Coast MCB 6, went for training at Camp Lejeune, South Carolina. The reason for the training is this, Seabees are supposed to be able to defend themselves and whatever thy build. Therefore, we were to be trained in all manner of defensive maneuvers and methods of defending a position. The first time I went I asked for weapons training and received training on weapons from a .45 Caliber side arm, M16 rifle, M60 machine gun, and the 105-recoilless rifle. The second time I went I had two weeks training in demolitions, learning to blow things up. That was interesting and fun.
Our Battalion deployed the advanced force in June and the full contingent deployed in July. We went to Chu Lei, a large air support base about mid-coast in South Viet Nam. The Air Force was flying Phantom F18’s and various other air-craft off the main run-ways as air support for ground troops and there was a Marine Air Group (MAG 13) which flew Huey Gunships in support of their forces in the field. Our primary role as a Construction Battalion was to rebuild Route 1, the main coastal road and to build a power distribution system for the entire base. This included making power distribution poles from re-bar and concrete. These were 12 meters and weighed 1375 kilos (1.5 tons). I was re-assigned from Delta Company to HQ Company to assist in the planning and tracking of that project.
As the power distribution system neared completion, I was returned to Delta Company which was the Builders Company and went out to Tam Ki to build revetments, or raised roof structures which were used by those escaping from North Viet Nam for shelter when they arrived in the area. It was here that the Viet Cong attacked with a concerted effort during the TET offensive of 1967. We successfully defended our position, with the assistance of an Army Unit of 105 Howitzers, from a company sized force bent upon over-running our camp. We had a few minor wounded, noting too serious. The Viet Cong suffered a greater number of loses with many bodies scattered over the field of fire and the concertina wire barricades we had erected. These were all Viet Cong not the North Viet Nam Regulars wo intelligence said were hanging back in the mountains to our north and west. It could have been worst.
Actually, it got worse for me, as I got sick at about this time. I woke up feeling wrung out and hot. I went to the medic and I was running a temperature of 102 F. He had me rest for a while and then took my temp again. 103 F. & rising. He decided that I had to go into Chu Lei, but I was not critical so I had to take the next transport into the base Hospital. This turned out to be a dump truck, and I had to ride in the back with a driver and shotgun up front. It was a long and bumps ride, for most of which I stood up until my legs got too tired. By the time, we arrived at the Hospital I literally fell off the back of the dump truck and was carried into the arrival area.
I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with a “Fever of Unknown Origin” at least that is what is in my official records. At first the doctors thought I had Malaria and gave me quinine every few hours. Then they thought I must have a sleeping sickness, as I was sleeping 23 hours a day. They would wake me up to give me aspirin which was the only thing which would bring down the fever. At one point they said my fever was 106 F, and they felt helpless to do anything effective as they had no idea what I had. In that short period of time, I lost 23 pounds, going from 185 lbs. to 162 lbs. I cannot remember that they ever brought me anything to eat while I was in that bed. I’m not sure, but I believe they dumped me in ice to finally break the fever.
When I finally woke up and felt like I was reasonable aware of myself and my surroundings, I realized that I was very hungry. I was told that I would have to go to the chow hall to get anything to eat. I was so dehydrated that I could not make my legs move more than to shuffle one foot in front of the other. Having arrived the only thing on the menu that looked even slightly appealing was the succotash. It was so good, with butter and salt. It is still one of my favorites today. Some number of years afterward, I was at a doctor’s office for a check-up, and was telling the doctor about this experience. He mentioned that he too spent some time in Viet Nam and questioned me further. He said he believed that it was most probably “Falciparous Malaria” or Plasmodium falciparum (P.f). I asked what that was and he showed me a medical journal which stated that this was the only type of malaria that was deadly, and having survived it I would never have a re-occurrence like other types of malaria.
After this episode, I remained at the main camp and was re-assigned to Delta Company. Again, we wer at that time in the war that the Viet Cong were making aggressive moves. One evening after supper we were getting cleaned up from the day. I was taking a shower when the warning siren went off, mortar attack. The lights went out and the water pressure dropped. No water! I stood there covered in soap without any way to rinse off. The sirens were wailing, I knew I needed to seek shelter or at least protection. I ran down the hill and dove into the nearest mortar pit. I flew in and slipped over the backs of my friends and out the other side, landing in the dirt. Ugg! I scrambled up and into the emplacement, finding a cramped corner to curl up into. About a half an hour later, we scrambled out of the pit, my friends going back the bunk house and I to my shower-interruptus having to start over again with more dirt and embarrassment than formerly.
Having returned to my status as a builder in Delta Company I was put on the project site of forming and pouring the 12-meter power poles. This included making up the actual forms for the square tapered poles, placing the re-bar cages made by the steel workers, placing the pipes which would form the access holes for putting in the climbing rods, oiling them and pouring in the concrete brought over from the plant by truck. Also, each day we had to go to the concrete batch plant and break open the bags of cement onto a conveyor which would bring the cement up to the tower to be mixed into the concrete. We had to do this because it was less expensive to make the concrete poles on site than to transport wooden poles from the west coast of the United States.
It was while I was on power pole pouring project that I was pulled off and put on a project to erect a 50’ watch tower on one of the hills overlooking the river delta north of Chu Lai. This was led by an “IPO” an “Instant Petty Officer” as we called them. This was someone who entered service into the Construction Battalions with previous construction experience for which they received a petty officer ranking from Third to First class. This fellow came with some experience which the rest of us could not understand. Everything he did was slow and ponderous in its preparations and executions. We really struggled to understand why he was doing things a particular way. I finally questioned him on his outlook reasoning and performance.
The very next day, at morning roll call, I was re-assigned with TAD, (Temporary Additional Duties) to MCB 13 in Da Nang to pour concrete and refinish the floors of the French-built barracks. While stationed with MCB 13 camped just north of Monkey Mountain we came under nightly mortar and rocket attack. This was due to the fact that our position was just east of the river and just west of the Marine Air Group 13 and the Da Nang airport, a primary target for the Viet Cong. Many times, the pounds fell short of their target and landed within our compound. Because of these frequent attacks, we spent many nights in our bunkers rather than our bunks in the barracks. I learned to fit my 6’2” frame into my helmet by pulling down on the chin straps until they reached my ankles.
This whole time was an experience which affected me, I did not realize how deeply this ran until some fifteen years later. I was working for an agency which utilized Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) Funds from the Federal Government usually the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). I was frequently in Washington DC for meetings or seminars on the use of federal funds and what was happening in the world of federal housing for the poor and low and moderate income families. On one particular trip I had the feeling that this might be one of the last times I was in DC and in fact that is what happened. I awoke early in the morning, actually it was near 4 am. Having this feeling, I said I need to go to the Mall and see the Viet Nam Memorial for myself. So, I got up and dressed, grabbed some coffee in the lobby and walked twelve blocks down to the Mall. I arrived at the Memorial just as the first rays of the morning sun scattered across the Mall lawn which was still wet with dew and sparkled like small waves on a green lake.
I approached the Wall from the west end. I had only ever see pictures of the Memorial Wall. So, the first view was stunning. The whole Wall was buried in the ground. That is to say the top of the Wall was at ground level and each end started level with the lawn and descended to a mid-point, which was about twelve feet lower than the top of the Wall. Each part of the Wall was a section with names engraved into black marble and with a glass smooth finish. In actuality The Memorial begins at the center or mid-point which was also an open angle of more than 90 degrees. One had to descend into the Memorial letting it overwhelm you as you go down the slate paved pathway to get to the beginning which by design was also the end. The Wall portrayed the war from the tall starting line away to the right, out to the end of the Memorial on that side and began on the left end and proceeded along that wall into the start/finish line. In reality, each visitor becomes a participant in the experience of war and loss, by descending into the grave circumstances of this valley of names of those killed in that war. One is in fact covered or overcome by the presence of those who gave their lives in that action in Viet Nam.
I remained at the wall until the tourist busses began to arrive. This broke the spell which the Monument had cast over me. I left walking back across the now dry lawn, looking forward to a reflective walk back to the Hotel. But, I guess shock set in. I suddenly felt over whelmed with emotions and weakness, especially in my legs. I wanted to leave, but my legs didn’t want to leave those who had to remain as names on the Memorial Wall. When I got to the street I simply hailed a cab, giving the cabbie the hotel and settled back into the uncomfortable seat, taking a deep breath and exhaling a long goodbye.
At the conference, I could not concentrate on the proceedings. Too much had bubbled up within me, I was in emotional turmoil. I pulled out my tape recorder plugged into the nearest outlet and turned it on. My poetic muse was moving in a powerful way and I could not hinder nor stand in the way but had to yield to the song of words which flooded my brain. I worked at writing throughout that morning as well as on the plane home. By the time, I landed I had finished that poem which summed up my thoughts about what I had gone through and my experience at the Wall which precipitated its writing. I attach a copy of that poem to this missive are part of what I want to share with others about our experiences in Viet Nam from 1965 through 1972 and how they affected our lives in one way or another.