Out of the jungle
transferred to urban combat
adjust momentum *
(*From my "USMC Combat Tour Trilogy" (mixed Haiku/Senryu blogged here in 2015)
Third
Battalion Fifth Marines was the last battalion of the First Marine Division to
land in Viet Nam and would stay in-country for five years (1966-1971.) The tour
of duty per Marine was to be thirteen months, so transfers had to be made in
country to keep the battalion at full capacity and not have all the original
Marines leave at one time. My transfer
came in late 1966, after two thirds of my tour, to the 1st MP's Battalion at the
Danang Airbase, which was pleasantly different from the previous fifteen to
thirty days jungle and rice paddy multiple search and destroy operations I had
become used to with 3/5.
Having a
Government driver’s license, I was the CO's driver and occasionally the Captain
would tell me to get a jeep to do a convoy routes security check in and out of
the base. We were on a first name basis and it always felt to me he was the
sheriff and I was his deputy. Whenever we ran into a skirmish, or some other
problem, he would go one way with his priorities and I would go another way
after mine. When I returned, if the jeep was still there, I waited for the
Captain, and if the jeep was gone, I found my own way back to base usually by
hitching a ride with a passing convoy going in that direction.
Another
interesting duty I did with the MP’s was to a walk along the jet fuel pipeline
that ran into the base from the tankers in the harbor. This was a dusk-to-dawn mile or so long patrol
where you would walk back and forth to the beach from the base, making sure
everything remained secured. During the
daylight there was a lot of work being
done along this pipeline, but after dark there was a curfew and everyone,
including the local police, knew this was a “free fire zone” no-man’s land and
you could be shot on sight.
This reminds me of the time a Force Recon team I
knew from several operations in my 3/5 days, made known they were walking
toward me on the pipeline one night. I said “Man, can't I hide from you guys
anywhere?" We all laughed, and then they explained they were not
interested in checking in and wanted me to get them a case of 45 caliber rounds
for their grease guns. I told them I would stop by the ammo dump before my duty
began the next evening and bring them a case. I didn't mention their presence
to anyone and the following night I brought them their rounds and they were on
their way.
There was,
also, a duty patrol that was an "on call" type of roaming around the
base, sort of like walking a beat. On this patrol I once was sent to quell a
disturbance at the EM club between some Marine convoy drivers and some Seabees.
There was a brawl going on when I arrived and I was not able to get anyone’s
attention, so I fired a round in the ceiling. Seeing me standing in the center
of the room with the MP band on one arm and a raised 45 in the other was all
that was needed to let them know it was time to move on. I quickly got on my
radio with the results, "disturbance handled, all secure" and moved
on myself, before anyone at my dispatch heard about the discharging of a pistol
on base. Not being one for excessive paperwork and reports, I tried to use the
"all secure" response as much as possible. Similarly, there was an
occasion where I'd found one of the UN "Observers" snooping around
near a restricted area. I told him where he was and to “get the hell out of
there.” I then personally mentioned that incident to my CO.
Having a lot
of freedom between duties, if I heard someone from my old battalion was on the
hospital ship in the harbor, I would make arrangements to visit them.
For my last
week in 'Nam, the only duty I had was to man one of the sandbagged bunkers on
the base perimeter. I would have much rather done a foot patrol somewhere, but
that's the way it was when you were “next” to return to “the world.” On my last
night, there was an incoming mortar barrage, and I spent the night listening to
the whistling of the rounds, wandering where they would hit.
As for my
total Viet Nam tour, a line from a Led Zeppelin song says it all for this grunt
everyman, “Good times, bad times, you know I had my share."
