My name is Jim Sysko. I'm about to turn 71 years old but remember these three incidents from the years 1968 and 69 like they happened yesterday. I was drafted into the US Army in 1967 and became a squad leader in the 173rd airborne brigade in the jungle covered Central Highlands.
We conducted search and distroy missions in the mountainous area between the Laotian border and the South China Sea. A typical mission was about 21 days in the woods on patrol and 3 days back at our base camps at An Khe or LZ Uplift for resupply and relaxation. The make up of our unit was about 50% white and 50% black.
Story number one happened on a jungle covered mountaintop not far from the Vietnamese village of Phu Cat where the Air Force had a major base covering the Central Highlands. North Vietnamese (NVA) units where in these mountains and it was our job to find them and eliminate them before they could over run the base or shoot down the Phantom fighters based there. I was in "Charley Company" back at LZ Uplift when we saw smoke and explosions 20 miles away on the mountaintop near the air base. "Bravo Company" was making contact with a NVA brigade that had set up 51 caliber machine guns to shoot down our jets. Bravo was walking into an ambush and had to be helped so our unit quickly headed their way by helicopter. Heavy US artillery fire was pounding the enemy positions but since things were so close US troops were also getting hit.
We landed about a half mile away on a ridge that ran directly to the top where the fighting was intense. We made contact with the perimeter of the NVA unit after Bravo Company was pulled out by some of the same choppers that brought us in. Our company Captain was from the deep south and wore a Confederate flag in his helmet. He favored his special southern boys and used us expendable northern boys in Raider Platoon when things got hairy.
I remember him yelling "Raiders up front". My squad was put on the left flank. We were taking intense machine gun fire at close range. We crawled forward through the underbrush as ordered but didn't get far before three of my men to my left were killed. I found a rock about the size of a basketball and pushed it forward while blindly shooting my M16. Chips of rock were flying around me. There were so many bullets being shot by both sides that indeed it sounded like a forest fire.. Men shooting amd shouting on both sides then it all stopped but I waited behind my little rock for a few minutes, waiting for orders. I raised my head to see what was ahead of me and as I did a single shot hit a NVA machine gunner that was looking right at me. One of my black soldiers saw him before he could pull the trigger. He saved my life. You never know.
I like to collect rocks from around the world. In 2013 I went back to Viet Nam with my son to find the rock that protected me but for some reason we were told by the local government officials that we were not allowed to climb this particular mountain. It was a special place to them and it is a special place for me. I saved the topo map and know exactly where that rock is. Maybe some day I'll try again.
Story number two happened during one of these 3 day"safe" resupply periods. Being a squad leader it was my responsibility to dole out the rations to my 10 men. Back then we had "C" rations which were meals in cans and plastic packs of condiments, utensils, toilet paper, matches, chewing gum, cigarettes, etc. Once in a while we had special gift packages with candy and nuts to split up between the men. On patrol in the jungle the color of our skin was a non-issue. Many soldiers died for each other as happened in my first story but back in base camp the black guys tended to stick together as did us whites. Back in the "world" (the USA) Martin Luther King had just been shot so there was racial tension even in Vietnam.
I was splitting up the candy as fairly as I could to my men when one of my black soldiers complained that he didn't get enough and grabbed a big handful. I grabbed the candy back but was pushed to the ground and was surrounded by my men as the two of us went at it. I got the upper hand and ended up sitting on top of him which was humiliating in front of his friends. Our platoon leader came over to see what the ruckus was all about and told us to go back to our 2 man bunkers at the camp's perimeter. Every night we did 2 hours on guard and 2 hours asleep through the night. That night my bunk-mate who happened to be black woke me up shortly after I fell asleep saying that he heard movement out at the barbed wire fence surrounding the camp and he wanted me to go out to check while he covered me. I agreed but when I reached for my rifle it was gone and I saw him pointing his rifle at my chest.
This time he ordered me to head out to the perimeter but I refused knowing that he was looking for a believable excuse to kill me and that he was doing this because of the humiliating candy incident his friend endured. I pleaded with him to give me my rifle or I wouldn't move. He'd have to shoot me where we stood and I also told him we should call the command bunker located about 50 yards behind our bunker on the radio to report movement at the perimeter. Thankfully he must have been just as scared as me for what he planned to do because he let me get on the radio. I was so nervous that I didn't use the proper army radio lingo and this made the Captain suspicious so he turned on the headlights of a tank to light up the scene just like a Hollywood movie. The Captain then walked up to us and took the rifle out of my executioners hands.
Story number three is about my return to the "World" in July, 1969. My parents and my little brother planned to meet me at the gate in Fort Lewis Washington and drive me cross country back to our home in Pennsylvania. This seemingly safe plan was made before cell phones and the horrors of PTSD were accepted. On the day I left my rifle was taken from me (flash back to the candy story) and I was picked up in the jungle by chopper and taken to the huge base at Cam Ran Bay for my flight back to the USA. No transition from combat what-so-ever. We crossed the international date line and landed at Fort Lewis the day before I had told my parents in a letter. I was given my back pay and my civilian clothes and told to get a motel room off the base for the night. It was a night from hell. I couldn't sleep. I propped a chair against the door knob and found a piece of wood for a club in case the room was overrun.
The next day I walked back to the gate at the base, met up with my family, and we went camping! I slept in the car with the doors locked. I couldn't hike down a trail without getting extremely nervous. No rifle in my hands! So nervous that I had to get back in the car. I told my parents that I just couldn't camp and we had to stay in motels for the rest of the trip. At a little rundown motel in Helena Montana we saw Apollo 11 land on the moon. For about a year I hit the ground whenever fireworks exploded nearby. They don't bother me anymore and I'm heading out later today to watch the 4th of July explosions.