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Vietnam Veteran's Stories

KMart said:
I heard about those from a guy that I worked with. He spent a lot of time in the bush and I didn't.
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They actually sounded like they were yelling f**k you. Kinda strange and chilling the first three or four thousand times you heard them.
 
dickn52 said:
They actually sounded like they were yelling f**k you. Kinda strange and chilling the first three or four thousand times you heard them.
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Were any of them high pitched yells....kind of like your crazy girlfriend screaming at you? That would have been a nightmare.

Edit. The correct name of the critter is the TOKAY GECKO LIZARD
 
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Just don't forget the damn pythons that looked like a 105 howitzer barrel or the double damn cobras, that looked like any other snake, until the hood spread out.
 
I have a friend who was in the Ia Drang Battle. He was shot twice, in the groin and thigh. He laid on the battle field for two days and nights while the VC were going through them and killing those they found alive. He and one other soldier were the only two left out of their platoon (or company I'm not sure). They were eventually rescued, and he was patched up and later returned to combat. He was on a magazine cover (I think U.S. News and World Report). The photo shows two soldiers supporting a wounded one, from the back. It's a pretty well known photo. He has some guns, but has not hunted since the war. He told me he carried an M14, because it always worked. Barlow
 
Barlow said:
I have a friend who was in the Ia Drang Battle. He was shot twice, in the groin and thigh. He laid on the battle field for two days and nights while the VC were going through them and killing those they found alive. He and one other soldier were the only two left out of their platoon (or company I'm not sure). They were eventually rescued, and he was patched up and later returned to combat. He was on a magazine cover (I think U.S. News and World Report). The photo shows two soldiers supporting a wounded one, from the back. It's a pretty well known photo. He has some guns, but has not hunted since the war. He told me he carried an M14, because it always worked. Barlow
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Your friend is one tough guy and I welcome him home(thank him for his service for me)As far as the M14 I thought it was one great firearm,I did not like the M16,maybe mine was wore out but I did not like it over the m14
 
I remember my friends,,Frizill,Juda,Martin,Willaims,and mostly gunny sgt. Jacks,who taught me how to live!!
 
I’m far too young to remember the Vietnam war (my dad was a Marine who spent a good bit of time in the infantry early on in the war), but I took a trip to Saigon a few years back. Unfortunately, it’s a place that is somewhat hostile towards America, but only in certain ways. The people are utterly ignorant of the history of the war (not surprising when you consider the stranglehold the communist party has on them). People were generally pleasant, but when the topic of the war came up, you got a whole different angle. Sadly, a lot of it was born of ignorance. There is a meseum called the American War Crimes museum there- full of propaganda that would make Goebels proud, as you might imagine. Overall, it was good to see capitalism and entrepreneurship taking hold in that country, but pretty depressing to see what the communists did to the people’s sense of who they are.
 
338 Mollett said:
Gentlemen, I am very sorry about the things you went through.I deeply hope you have found a peace and joy in life after Vietnam much greater than the hell you endured ! Regards Ralph Mollett
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I'm guessing you are not a combat veteran. Most men who served at the point of the spear have a special bond that other men often don't quite grasp. I was a Naval Aviator and an officer, but when I meet a enlisted Marine grunt from a different age group with an entirely different combat experience, we seem to speak the same language.

Most men I've met who have actually "been there....... done that" aren't the wounded birds the Hollywood movie makers would have you believe. Incidentally, we Naval Aviators are not the undisciplined children depicted by Tom Cruz in the movie Top Gun. Just the opposite in fact. Arrogant? Well, maybe a little bit after a few beers. But off the reservation? Never.

My combat duty in Viet Nam was the most exhilarating experience in my lifetime. My squadron mates, for the most part, would agree. I served alongside a group of total professionals, from the most junior enlisted man, all the way up to the Captain of the Ship. Our losses were dramatic, the highest of any Naval Aviation Unit in Viet Nam, but we never considered it "Hell".

Our worst losses were taken during the June 1967 through January 1968 deployment. During 122 days of combat, Airwing 16, onboard USS Oriskany, lost more than one-half of our airplanes assigned to her and one-third of our pilots. Twenty aviators were killed or missing in action, seven taken prisoner of war, and thirty-nine aircraft lost. That is from a complement of about 50 combat aviators. At the same time, we delivered more successful strikes and more bombs on target than any other Airwing including those operating from larger carriers.

Although not everyone embraced this kind of intense effort, most of us loved every minute of it, except perhaps those nasty night-carrier-landings. We don't need to find peace and joy in life; we never lost it. We aren't half-crazed wackos because of our combat experience and we certainly don't want anyone to feel sorry for the things we went through. Actually, it wasn't something we "went through". A root canal is something you "go through". Serving in Viet Nam is, for us anyway, a fond memory. Perhaps part of that has to do with how hard we had to work in order to get there.

Becoming a Naval Aviator requires some level of education coupled with a lot of hard work and then getting into a combat situation requires even more serious effort. It ain't easy, unless you're John McCain who was unable to clear any of those hurdles (he flunked out of the Naval Academy and Naval Flight Training several times each) but was blessed with a Daddy and a grandfather who were both powerful admirals. They arranged everything for little Johnny on a silver platter. John was the only real goof ball in our Airwing; totally unqualified to be there and he didn't last very long before getting bagged.

One could certainly argue that bombing the doo-dah out of North Viet Nam was not worth the overall effort and I might not disagree with that. But I can say for certain that peace and joy is has never been missing in my life; before, during, or after my combat experience in Viet Nam. In fact, when it comes to pure joy, I would have to say leading a 35 plane Alpha Strike into the most heavily defended piece of turf on the face of the earth is the very definition of pure joy.......... or to put a finer point on it, going "feet wet" (returning out over the water and heading home toward the aircraft carrier) is where the joy is most extreme.

I've long since outgrown my G-suit and I'm nearly double my fighting weight, but given the chance and a little better eyesight, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat as would most of my shipmates............. uh............ except for those damned night carrier landings.
 
Mozella said:
I'm guessing you are not a combat veteran. Most men who served at the point of the spear have a special bond that other men often don't quite grasp. I was a Naval Aviator and an officer, but when I meet a enlisted Marine grunt from a different age group with an entirely different combat experience, we seem to speak the same language.

Most men I've met who have actually "been there....... done that" aren't the wounded birds the Hollywood movie makers would have you believe. Incidentally, we Naval Aviators are not the undisciplined children depicted by Tom Cruz in the movie Top Gun. Just the opposite in fact. Arrogant? Well, maybe a little bit after a few beers. But off the reservation? Never.

My combat duty in Viet Nam was the most exhilarating experience in my lifetime. My squadron mates, for the most part, would agree. I served alongside a group of total professionals, from the most junior enlisted man, all the way up to the Captain of the Ship. Our losses were dramatic, the highest of any Naval Aviation Unit in Viet Nam, but we never considered it "Hell".

Our worst losses were taken during the June 1967 through January 1968 deployment. During 122 days of combat, Airwing 16, onboard USS Oriskany, lost more than one-half of our airplanes assigned to her and one-third of our pilots. Twenty aviators were killed or missing in action, seven taken prisoner of war, and thirty-nine aircraft lost. That is from a complement of about 50 combat aviators. At the same time, we delivered more successful strikes and more bombs on target than any other Airwing including those operating from larger carriers.

Although not everyone embraced this kind of intense effort, most of us loved every minute of it, except perhaps those nasty night-carrier-landings. We don't need to find peace and joy in life; we never lost it. We aren't half-crazed wackos because of our combat experience and we certainly don't want anyone to feel sorry for the things we went through. Actually, it wasn't something we "went through". A root canal is something you "go through". Serving in Viet Nam is, for us anyway, a fond memory. Perhaps part of that has to do with how hard we had to work in order to get there.

Becoming a Naval Aviator requires some level of education coupled with a lot of hard work and then getting into a combat situation requires even more serious effort. It ain't easy, unless you're John McCain who was unable to clear any of those hurdles (he flunked out of the Naval Academy and Naval Flight Training several times each) but was blessed with a Daddy and a grandfather who were both powerful admirals. They arranged everything for little Johnny on a silver platter. John was the only real goof ball in our Airwing; totally unqualified to be there and he didn't last very long before getting bagged.

One could certainly argue that bombing the doo-dah out of North Viet Nam was not worth the overall effort and I might not disagree with that. But I can say for certain that peace and joy is has never been missing in my life; before, during, or after my combat experience in Viet Nam. In fact, when it comes to pure joy, I would have to say leading a 35 plane Alpha Strike into the most heavily defended piece of turf on the face of the earth is the very definition of pure joy.......... or to put a finer point on it, going "feet wet" (returning out over the water and heading home toward the aircraft carrier) is where the joy is most extreme.

I've long since outgrown my G-suit and I'm nearly double my fighting weight, but given the chance and a little better eyesight, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat as would most of my shipmates............. uh............ except for those damned night carrier landings.
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Though John McCain graduated near the bottom of his class, he graduated from the Naval Academy in 1958 at 22 years of age. He did not flunk out.
 
JRS said:
Though John McCain graduated near the bottom of his class, he graduated from the Naval Academy in 1958 at 22 years of age. He did not flunk out.
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"Though John McCain graduated near the bottom of his class, he graduated from the Naval Academy in 1958 at 22 years of age. He did not flunk out." Says JRS

I'm sure the capitulator McCain is one of your heroes!
 
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Mozella said:
I'm guessing you are not a combat veteran. Most men who served at the point of the spear have a special bond that other men often don't quite grasp. I was a Naval Aviator and an officer, but when I meet a enlisted Marine grunt from a different age group with an entirely different combat experience, we seem to speak the same language.

Most men I've met who have actually "been there....... done that" aren't the wounded birds the Hollywood movie makers would have you believe. Incidentally, we Naval Aviators are not the undisciplined children depicted by Tom Cruz in the movie Top Gun. Just the opposite in fact. Arrogant? Well, maybe a little bit after a few beers. But off the reservation? Never.

My combat duty in Viet Nam was the most exhilarating experience in my lifetime. My squadron mates, for the most part, would agree. I served alongside a group of total professionals, from the most junior enlisted man, all the way up to the Captain of the Ship. Our losses were dramatic, the highest of any Naval Aviation Unit in Viet Nam, but we never considered it "Hell".

Our worst losses were taken during the June 1967 through January 1968 deployment. During 122 days of combat, Airwing 16, onboard USS Oriskany, lost more than one-half of our airplanes assigned to her and one-third of our pilots. Twenty aviators were killed or missing in action, seven taken prisoner of war, and thirty-nine aircraft lost. That is from a complement of about 50 combat aviators. At the same time, we delivered more successful strikes and more bombs on target than any other Airwing including those operating from larger carriers.

Although not everyone embraced this kind of intense effort, most of us loved every minute of it, except perhaps those nasty night-carrier-landings. We don't need to find peace and joy in life; we never lost it. We aren't half-crazed wackos because of our combat experience and we certainly don't want anyone to feel sorry for the things we went through. Actually, it wasn't something we "went through". A root canal is something you "go through". Serving in Viet Nam is, for us anyway, a fond memory. Perhaps part of that has to do with how hard we had to work in order to get there.

Becoming a Naval Aviator requires some level of education coupled with a lot of hard work and then getting into a combat situation requires even more serious effort. It ain't easy, unless you're John McCain who was unable to clear any of those hurdles (he flunked out of the Naval Academy and Naval Flight Training several times each) but was blessed with a Daddy and a grandfather who were both powerful admirals. They arranged everything for little Johnny on a silver platter. John was the only real goof ball in our Airwing; totally unqualified to be there and he didn't last very long before getting bagged.

One could certainly argue that bombing the doo-dah out of North Viet Nam was not worth the overall effort and I might not disagree with that. But I can say for certain that peace and joy is has never been missing in my life; before, during, or after my combat experience in Viet Nam. In fact, when it comes to pure joy, I would have to say leading a 35 plane Alpha Strike into the most heavily defended piece of turf on the face of the earth is the very definition of pure joy.......... or to put a finer point on it, going "feet wet" (returning out over the water and heading home toward the aircraft carrier) is where the joy is most extreme.

I've long since outgrown my G-suit and I'm nearly double my fighting weight, but given the chance and a little better eyesight, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat as would most of my shipmates............. uh............ except for those damned night carrier landings.
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First;Thank You for your service.Second:You are correct I am not a combat veteran.Third;I am overjoyed that the experience was the most exhilarating of your life.Forth;Please shout out very LOUD! how much fun you had and how it wasn't hell to James Ronnie Mollett and the others that died over there .THEY CAN"T HEAR VERY WELL!!! Regards Ralph Mollett
 
I once had the opportunity to sit in a flight-ready F4 in the parapet at Danang airbase. It was really cool. I can see where someone would get joy from flying it, much more so that the Piper Colt that I had flown prior to entering the USMC. But I don't recall there being any joy when we were told that we were being given the opportunity to take a stroll through the hinterland as part of a search and destroy mission- given the nature of a S&D: generally designed as follows: an infantry unit becomes bait so the adversary will shoot, giving up their location; this is the search part; then someone in the infantry unit that has so far survived the ambush calls on the radio for a fire mission or air strike - the destroy part. Having the MOS2531 meant that I got to carry the radio and hand the handset to the SSgt-Lt in charge of the squad (if he was still alive and able to talk) for him to call in the support. Sometimes I got to do it myself. It was quite nerve racking particularly since most where "danger close" and any error on my part could result in casualties from friendly fire. So the course of the events was a tiring walk in the ____, carrying at least 40 pounds (generally more) of stuff. Generally these walks were non-productive, resulting in just getting tired and hating the country and people with every boring step. On the really nasty days the point man would trip a booby trap and have his leg blown off. the corpsman would tourniquet his leg and I'd call in a medevac; then the tiring boring walk would resume. If a major operation we got to make camp for the night in the middle of nowhere, sometimes we got to make what appeared to watchful eyes as our camp, then after dark sneak over to another spot, trying not to give away the ploy. Then staying awake half the night on guard against night attack. Walking resumed at first light. If we really got lucky (from the generals point of view) we'd stumble into a major trap. Several of our acquaintances would either be killed outright, or severely wounded. For those not on the receiving end of the enemy ordinance the biology of fight or flight kicked in and we were trained and proud enough to not flight, which left fight; this resulted in massive amounts of adrenaline being pumped into our systems to the point that time and space became distorted. A few hours later, or was it just a few minutes? after the artillery and bombs had stopped exploding, the enemy had either been killed (and then dragged away to deprive Westy of he beloved body count) (or booby trapped for the GI to pay again for the death of the enemy), and the survivors withdrew like the breeze into the shadows, the survivors of the ambush then got to recover from a years worth of adrenaline that had been generated in a short time, as it drained away we'd get shakes and had to sit, unable to hold a weapon from "the shakes" until our bodies recovered. At some point we'd finally get to return to the compound where we'd get to sleep in our cots but still not get rest because we still got to stay awake half the night on guard. and at some point day 385 would come-up on the calendar and each would check his stuff back into supply and the armorer and would get on a plane and leave. I recall hurrying out from the Danang terminal, into the waiting jet (either a DC8 or B707) that had just discharged it's cargo on new guys, and taking whatever seat I could find. the plane accelerated down the runway, becoming airborne. As the plane pulled up and it's contact with Vietnam ended there was spontaneous applause. I suppose that was a joyful moment. I know I was certainly glad that I had made it through my 385 days with only superficial injuries and was now on my way back to the "world". Something like a day later I was on a plane that landed at what was then Norton AFB near San Berdo, CA. As I went down the stairs to the pavement I jumped the last few stairs, landing with both feet on US soil. That was also a joyful moment. As I look at the calendar I see it is exactly 50 years since the TET offensive was winding down, having started just over 3 weeks and fifty years ago. My unit, B/1/5 had just about completed retaking the northside of the Perfume river in Hue. Those unlucky guys in 2&3/5 had been tasked with taking back the southside of the river. another case of gross underestimation of the number, skill and determination of the enemy by general staff- but they were just following LBJs mindset, after all, he had told North Vietnam that he had a big iron on his hip and wasn't afraid to use it. there were several battles in several wars where general staff seemed to believe their own propaganda about the invincibility of the American fighting man- that the enemy would shrink away in fear.

Well, I'm glad that those flying squids enjoyed their airplane rides- it does sound like fun. I'm glad someone got some fun out of that mess. So now it's after midnight and It'll take both an Alprazolam and a Zolpidem to unwind and allow for sleep. Oh well, the trip that never ends.
 
Having the MOS 2531 meant that I got to carry the radio and hand the handset to the SSgt-Lt in charge of the squad (if he was still alive and able to talk) for him to call in the support.
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Cool! 2533 here. Nam 66 and 67. Just think, the Corps sent us to Norfolk for months of intensive training in code. Didn't learn a damn thing about the prick 25 we ended up toting around in Nam. What a mcf that was. Imagine calling in air or arty in Morse. oh yeah! By the by...welcome home brother!
 
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Ray B said:
I once had the opportunity to sit in a flight-ready F4 in the parapet at Danang airbase. It was really cool. I can see where someone would get joy from flying it, much more so that the Piper Colt that I had flown prior to entering the USMC. But I don't recall there being any joy when we were told that we were being given the opportunity to take a stroll through the hinterland as part of a search and destroy mission- given the nature of a S&D: generally designed as follows: an infantry unit becomes bait so the adversary will shoot, giving up their location; this is the search part; then someone in the infantry unit that has so far survived the ambush calls on the radio for a fire mission or air strike - the destroy part. Having the MOS2531 meant that I got to carry the radio and hand the handset to the SSgt-Lt in charge of the squad (if he was still alive and able to talk) for him to call in the support. Sometimes I got to do it myself. It was quite nerve racking particularly since most where "danger close" and any error on my part could result in casualties from friendly fire. So the course of the events was a tiring walk in the ____, carrying at least 40 pounds (generally more) of stuff. Generally these walks were non-productive, resulting in just getting tired and hating the country and people with every boring step. On the really nasty days the point man would trip a booby trap and have his leg blown off. the corpsman would tourniquet his leg and I'd call in a medevac; then the tiring boring walk would resume. If a major operation we got to make camp for the night in the middle of nowhere, sometimes we got to make what appeared to watchful eyes as our camp, then after dark sneak over to another spot, trying not to give away the ploy. Then staying awake half the night on guard against night attack. Walking resumed at first light. If we really got lucky (from the generals point of view) we'd stumble into a major trap. Several of our acquaintances would either be killed outright, or severely wounded. For those not on the receiving end of the enemy ordinance the biology of fight or flight kicked in and we were trained and proud enough to not flight, which left fight; this resulted in massive amounts of adrenaline being pumped into our systems to the point that time and space became distorted. A few hours later, or was it just a few minutes? after the artillery and bombs had stopped exploding, the enemy had either been killed (and then dragged away to deprive Westy of he beloved body count) (or booby trapped for the GI to pay again for the death of the enemy), and the survivors withdrew like the breeze into the shadows, the survivors of the ambush then got to recover from a years worth of adrenaline that had been generated in a short time, as it drained away we'd get shakes and had to sit, unable to hold a weapon from "the shakes" until our bodies recovered. At some point we'd finally get to return to the compound where we'd get to sleep in our cots but still not get rest because we still got to stay awake half the night on guard. and at some point day 385 would come-up on the calendar and each would check his stuff back into supply and the armorer and would get on a plane and leave. I recall hurrying out from the Danang terminal, into the waiting jet (either a DC8 or B707) that had just discharged it's cargo on new guys, and taking whatever seat I could find. the plane accelerated down the runway, becoming airborne. As the plane pulled up and it's contact with Vietnam ended there was spontaneous applause. I suppose that was a joyful moment. I know I was certainly glad that I had made it through my 385 days with only superficial injuries and was now on my way back to the "world". Something like a day later I was on a plane that landed at what was then Norton AFB near San Berdo, CA. As I went down the stairs to the pavement I jumped the last few stairs, landing with both feet on US soil. That was also a joyful moment. As I look at the calendar I see it is exactly 50 years since the TET offensive was winding down, having started just over 3 weeks and fifty years ago. My unit, B/1/5 had just about completed retaking the northside of the Perfume river in Hue. Those unlucky guys in 2&3/5 had been tasked with taking back the southside of the river. another case of gross underestimation of the number, skill and determination of the enemy by general staff- but they were just following LBJs mindset, after all, he had told North Vietnam that he had a big iron on his hip and wasn't afraid to use it. there were several battles in several wars where general staff seemed to believe their own propaganda about the invincibility of the American fighting man- that the enemy would shrink away in fear.

Well, I'm glad that those flying squids enjoyed their airplane rides- it does sound like fun. I'm glad someone got some fun out of that mess. So now it's after midnight and It'll take both an Alprazolam and a Zolpidem to unwind and allow for sleep. Oh well, the trip that never ends.
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I remember going into the Air Force compound in Da Nang for supplies and seeing the F-4's lined up with there hoods up ready for the call. Also remember the ice cream, ice and popcorn was great. Good chow as well. Also remember the flight out of there like you described and not looking or ever wanting to go back. Also remember when we saw the lights of Ca.was a dream come true. Thank God for the U.S.A.
 
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