“It’s ‘Sixpack’ to my friends.”
Bill hesitated, “Okay, Sixpack.”
As he passed, members of the First Platoon fell in, joining the caravan. The heat was unbearable, feeling like an inferno. Shirts were already soaking wet from sweat and they had only been moving for ten minutes. John continuously wiped the sweat from his burning eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Beads of sweat ran down his back, collecting in an uncomfortable puddle where the rucksack frame rested on the small of his back. He tried to relieve the itching sensation but could not do so without removing the rucksack.
Zeke’s helmet bobbed up and down in front of John as they inched along. He had only thirty days left before his yearlong tour ended. He had been with the same squad the entire eleven months, and at nineteen years old, was one of the “old timers” in the platoon. The L-T occasionally called on him for advice before sending out patrols, and considered him the platoon’s most valuable asset. In his time there, he had witnessed many situations requiring a cool head, and saw enough VC tactics to quickly recognize potential ambush sites. He was aggressive and did not cut any slack, which helped him get through it all without a scratch. John was to find out later that Zeke had already received the Bronze Star with a “V” device for Valor for saving two grunts who were hit during a firefight and later trapped by the enemy. He had crawled through the gunfire and pulled them both to safety.
John’s steel helmet began to give him a stiff neck and the straps of the rucksack made his shoulders numb. Although he had always been fairly athletic and played football in high school, nothing he had ever experienced physically in his past even came close to this bone-deep exhaustion.
‘I hope we’ll be stopping soon for a breather. I can’t go on any further,’ he uttered to himself.
He continued to follow Zeke absentmindedly for another thousand steps. His only concern at that point was in finding a way to manage the extreme weight on his back coupled with the hellish temperature. Finally, word made its way back to the men to take a five-minute break. John let the weight of his ruck pull him to the ground. Once he slipped out of the ruck straps, the circulation returned to his numb shoulders, but the throbbing pain continued. He unhooked one of his quart canteens, drank three-quarters of the warm water, and then poured some of the contents over his head.
“Hey! Dumbass! Easy with the water,” Zeke scolded in a hushed voice. “It has to last you two more days. You keep drinking like that, and you’ll be out of water in an hour, get all cramped up, and fall flat on your ass.”
John was embarrassed, looking around; he noticed others taking very small sips of water; nobody pouring any over themselves.
“Sorry, Zeke,” John whispered back humbly. “Thanks for the advice.”
Two minutes passed and John looked to Zeke, whispering, “Why does everyone have green towels hanging from their necks? Isn’t it too hot for that?”
“The towel doesn’t make a difference in this heat, but it is a great help when humping. It serves as a cushion under your shoulder straps, and comes in handy for wiping sweat from your eyes instead of using your shirt sleeve.”
“Thanks, teach.”
“Don’t mention it.”
John quickly pulled his towel from his rucksack and draped it over his shoulders.
Up ahead, people began to move about and help each other to their feet. The caravan was on the move once again.
This time, the towel helped to make it a little easier on John. When the next break came, he was not hurting quite as bad.
In the two hours of humping, the company had only managed to travel one click (one thousand meters or one kilometer) through the nearly impenetrable jungle. The column stopped and bunched up when the point man came upon a large, unmarked trail. It measured ten feet across and showed signs of recent activity. The Third Platoon sent out small recon patrols to investigate in both directions, the rest of the company dropped in place for a break. After a twenty-minute delay, the column began moving once again.
When Sixpack’s Squad reached the trail, they crossed it one man at a time. As John moved across, he noticed a few members of the Third Platoon crouched fifty feet away on both sides of the column. They were watching for the enemy and providing security while the company traversed the open ground.
After the last man in the company had crossed the trail, the column halted once again. This time, however, it was to set up a Night Defensive Position (NDP).
Before assigning individual positions, Sixpack spoke to the other three squad leaders, coordinating the night ambush. Each squad had to give up two men. The eight soldiers would ambush the trail from two different locations. Zeke and Frenchie from the First Squad quickly volunteered.
“I want to be as far away from this CP as possible. With only thirty days left in this country, I don’t want to get hit because of some noisy-assed radio operators,” Zeke declared.
“I don’t blame you!” Frenchie added.
As the L-T briefed the ambush teams, Sixpack assigned the remaining First Squad members to sleeping positions around their sector of the perimeter.
They shared a few machetes among themselves to dig out sleeping areas - hacking away at branches, roots, and stones until they were sure nothing protruded from the ground to poke at their sleeping bodies during the night.
When ponchos and liners were in place on the ground and gear was stored properly, only then could they prepare dinner. Everyone had his own recipe and special additives from home to make the C-Rations taste better. Heinz-57 sauce and Tabasco were two favorites; squad members shared them freely.
After dinner, Sixpack instructed his squad on the placement of claymore mines and trip flares. The guard position had to be set up in a central location to be accessible to every sleep position; a clear and unobstructed path was necessary so very little noise was made during the night when changing the guards.
It was evening and there was still a bit of light in the jungle when everyone finished their tasks to secure the NDP for the night. Each soldier took a few minutes to familiarize himself with the immediate surroundings. During the pitch black of night, when it was impossible to see, it was essential to know the routes of travel, as well as the sleeping position of your guard duty replacement.
Sixpack assigned each squad member an individual time for the night watch. John had the shift from five to six in the morning. Since it was the last watch, he also had the responsibility of waking everyone in the morning. He was ecstatic, and felt lucky to be able to get a full night’s sleep on his first night in the bush.
John squeezed out some “bug juice” into the palm of his hand, wiped the repellent across his exposed skin, and lay on his makeshift bed. He was completely spent from the long hump that day.
Sixpack walked up to him. “Hey, Polack, are you all squared away for the night?”
“As good as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. Later when you are on watch, the CP will call you on the radio for a situation report. Our call sign is Romeo-six. If everything is all right, you do not have to say anything, just push the call switch of the handset once – we call it keying the mike. Make sure the volume is set low on the radio and then hold the handset close during the watch. The radio is our lifeline, so if called or something unexpected happens; it has to be available quickly without any stumbling around in the dark to look for it. If you get nervous, wake me, I can keep you company. I know the first night in the bush is a bitch, and I can sympathize with you.”
“Romeo-six, keying the mike, keep the volume of the radio turned down, check, I think I have it,” John recited.
“Hang in there,” Sixpack replied, then turned to leave.
“Sixpack!” John whispered. “How about answering a question before you leave?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“The night before last, when I was on guard duty at Firebase Kien, we saw a Cobra working out. Junior, the guy with me, said that Charlie Company saw something and had request
ed the artillery and gunships. Did they find anything?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t sound too good. The L-T told us earlier that it was more than they had bargained for.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They sent out two squads on this routine patrol to check the area this morning and found six VC bodies. They began to celebrate and got careless, making too much noise on the return to their NDP. The VC heard them and immediately laid an ambush. When sprung, half of the men in the patrol went down. The rest took off, shooting wildly toward their ambushers to break contact. The intensity of the ambush made them believe they were greatly outnumbered. In their haste to escape, they left the dead and wounded behind. When they returned within an hour in full force, all the bodies were gone.”
“What will happen now?”
“They asked for Alpha Company’s help. We’ll link up with Charlie Company tomorrow and make a sweep of the area to see what we can find.”
“You think we’ll find the missing bodies?”
“I don’t know. We may run into the VC first. So we should prepare for the worst and be ready for anything.”
John took a few deep breaths. “I sure hope there aren’t going to be any VC around.”
“I’m not too fond of a firefight either, but don’t lose any sleep worrying about it - that will just make you crazy.” Sixpack advised and then started to walk away. "I’ll see you in the morning.”
John lay back down and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. The exotic sounds of jungle wildlife were especially loud tonight. In the twilight, he tried to spot stars in the sky through the thick overhead growth. He knew it wasn’t possible to see the sun through the dense trees in the daytime, but just maybe it was different at night.
His astronomy search ended abruptly when he spotted something he hadn’t noticed earlier. Just several feet above his head were two huge spiders, both as big as pancakes, and sitting in the exact center of their circular webs. A chill ran down his spine and goose bumps broke out on his arms. He was scared to death of spiders, and it was too late to move to a new area. Furthermore, by no means was he going to knock them from their webs to crawl around on the ground with him.
Now, finding himself in an uncomfortable position, there was no alternative but to keep an eye on them. He stared at them for ten minutes, just to make sure they did not move around. As he did this, he noticed swarms of flying insects above the webs. The larger dragonflies and horseflies dominated the airspace as they darted through swarms of buzzing mosquitoes. He hoped that a few of them would get caught in the webs so the spiders would be occupied for the rest of the night and wouldn’t drop in on him while he slept.
John covered up with the poncho liner and tucked it in over his head. It was enough to keep out the swarms of flying insects, but the buzzing around his ears was unbearable.
“Hey, Polack, get up, it’s your watch,” someone whispered in his ear.
He sat upright and tried focusing his eyes in the now pitch-black darkness. It was no use, and he wondered if it was possible to have gone blind while asleep.
“Who’s that?” John whispered.
“It’s Scout,” the same voice replied. “Take hold of my arm, and I’ll guide you to the watch area.”
He picked up his rifle and ammo then snatched a handful of Scout’s shirt, following him like a blind man. In spite of his best efforts earlier to memorize landmarks, John was very unaware of his location, which caused a feeling of total helplessness.
“Are you going to be alright, Polack?” Scout asked, sensing something was wrong.
“Scout, I think I’m blind. I can’t see shit,” John whispered.
“Give it a couple of minutes. Just sit down and I’ll stick around until your night vision comes to you.”
John sat quietly with Scout. After a few minutes, he could finally make out the shadows of a few bushes and trees to his front. When John turned to face him, he could see the sharply defined profile of the Cherokee soldier nicknamed ‘Scout’ sitting next to him in the darkness.
“Okay, thanks, I can see you, so I’ll be fine now.”
“I’m glad. It is always a bitch when you first wake up in the bush. It happens to everyone. Oh well, at least I still have forty-five minutes to get some sleep. Here’s the radio handset,” he said, holding it out and tapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
He vanished into the darkness, leaving John alone at watch.
John sat perfectly still, straining to see. He held the handset to one ear and tried to listen in on the eerie jungle sounds with the other.
“Thank God it’ll be light in half an hour,” he said to himself.
Just then, he heard a rush of static in the radio receiver and a voice whispering, “Romeo-six, this is Alpha-one, sit-rep, over.”
John squeezed the handset once, as Sgt. Holmes had instructed him earlier, which caused the noisy static to cease for an instant and then return after releasing the button.
“Sierra-six, this is Alpha-one, sit-rep, over,” the voice through the handset continued. A break in the static was their response. That continued for the next couple of minutes until all the elements of the company had responded - including the ambush teams.
The jungle began to lighten up a little at a time toward the end of John’s shift. He watched as a fog began materializing. The moist dew appeared to move as it saturated everything within four feet of the ground. When he felt his poncho liner and fatigues, he found they were already wet.
At six o’clock, he took his rifle and walked over to where Sixpack was sleeping. After John gave him a couple of shakes, he opened his eyes.
“Morning, Sarge,” John said cheerfully. It’s time to get up.”
Sixpack jumped to his feet and began to stretch.
“Thanks, Polack,” he said. “Start waking everyone else in the squad and tell them to hurry and eat breakfast. We have to be ready to leave on a patrol at seven.”
“OK, will do.” John left to wake the other five men, making sure he passed on the information as Sixpack had instructed. As he was doing this, the two ambush teams had arrived at the NDP, and individual members were moving through and returning to their designated squad locations. Sixpack caught both Zeke and Frenchie when they arrived and personally informed them of the upcoming patrol.
When John returned to his sleep area to pack up his gear, he looked up and found the two spiders still centered in the webs. Had they not been there, he would have scoured the ground looking for them before sitting down.
He pulled out a heat tab and began to heat some water for cocoa. It was ironic for a person in this country to be so very hot during the day, yet so cold at the night.
John added a packet of cocoa powder to his canteen cup of boiling water, stirring the contents with a plastic spoon. Before taking a drink, he raised the cup as in a toast, and said, ‘I made it through my first day in the bush, only 335 more days to go.’
~~~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sixpack called for a pre-patrol briefing before the squad members had a chance to eat breakfast; most of their time since waking was spent retrieving claymore mines and trip flares from their hidden positions of the night before. The men trickled over, carrying their morning meal of coffee, cocoa, or C-Rations, to consume while listening.
Sixpack and Scout extracted a brittle muffin from a vacuum-packed C-Ration tin and spread jelly over the top. Then, with painstaking care, they pecked at theirs gingerly so it would not fall apart, crumbling in their hands. Doc, Zeke, and Wild Bill took a seat on the ground, leaning against a nearby tree with a two-foot wide trunk; each brought a can of semi-solid scrambled eggs and a canteen cup of steaming cocoa. John sat across from Sixpack and appeared very nervous; his canteen cup of coffee, shook in his hand when he raised it to his lips. Larry arrived with some coffee and continued brushing his teeth. After finding a suitable place to sit, he removed the toothbrush and spat the foamy liquid onto some nearb
y bushes. He took a sip of coffee, swirled it around, and then swallowed the sweetened liquid. Nung sat next to Sixpack, quite content with his meal of cold spaghetti and meatballs.
“Listen up, guys.” Sixpack sipped from his canteen cup of steaming coffee, holding it in both hands while speaking. “We have to check out the trail we crossed yesterday.”
“How far do we have to go?” Scout asked.
“I don’t know. We have to be back here in a couple of hours, so we’ll play it by ear.”
“What’s happening in two hours?” Wild Bill asked, scratching at some mosquito bites protruding from a wild stallion tattoo on his forearm.
“We have to assist Charlie Company in a sweep of their area later to help find their missing guys.”
“That’s going to be fun,” Zeke said sarcastically.
Ignoring the comment and flashing Zeke a look of disappointment, Sixpack continued, “Okay, when reaching the trail, we’ll go west for a while and scope it out. I do not want anybody walking on the trail itself. Stay off to the side and cut bush if you have to. Something this well - used is sure to be booby-trapped and watched by the VC; the shrubbery will help us with concealment and cover. Order of march will be Nung, Scout, and Larry, me, Polack, and Doc. Frenchie, you and Zeke will bring up the rear.”
“What about me?” Wild Bill asked.
“I want you on our left flank. Stay within twenty feet of the column and keep us in sight at all times.”
“Who’s going to carry the radio?” Zeke inquired. He was squeezing out a generous portion of white salve onto his red, swollen feet, and then rubbing them vigorously to work in the medicine. Zeke’s feet were infected with jungle rot, a fungus quite common to GI’s in the wet jungle. Both feet looked like prunes; some areas looked like layers of skin had already come off and had a nauseating smell. Zeke’s attempt to disinfect the raw skin and wrap his feet with sterile gauze just did not seem to be enough. John wondered how he was even able to walk.
Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition Page 11