Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition

by Podlaski, John

  During the long follow-the-leader marches, many in the column walked along absentmindedly, daydreaming about home, girlfriends, cars, and other diversions. Then in the evening, they would get together and share those thoughts while eating dinner. The troops were so exhausted; many were fast asleep even before darkness set in.

  Debates occurred every evening - some over cars, actresses, musical groups, sports teams, and of course, Vietnam. The young men were very passionate about these topics, each person believing his own opinion was the correct one. Sometimes the debates heated up, but all knew when to stop and move on to a different topic. It seemed to be the only way to work off the accumulated adrenaline of the day. Sixpack thought all the inactivity was causing the platoon to lose its sharpness.

  November was two weeks old and many of the soldiers from the northern states had not yet accepted the fact that the rest of the year would not offer them a snowy season. The winter months in Vietnam were no different from any other time of the year: hot and muggy.

  The captain tried to convince the colonel to withdraw the company and move them to another AO. He told him that Alpha had already patrolled every acre of the area during the last five weeks and had not seen the enemy or fired a single shot. The constant humping wore down his men and some were starting to get sloppy. He warned that even the new Cherries were becoming overconfident, thinking they knew it all.

  While the discussion took place, the grunts rested and ate lunch just inside a tree line surrounding a large open clearing. Exhausted, everyone ate their meals quietly, knowing that they would soon be leaving on the next leg of their journey.

  The colonel granted the request and Alpha Company would be airlifted into a new area the following morning. In fact, the colonel planned to use the same clearing for their pickup point, which would allow the company to stay where they were until extraction. This was a rare treat and everyone was thankful that there would be no more humping that day.

  At night, as usual, the rain started falling just before seven. Luckily, since the men stayed in the same spot for most of the day, many of the grunts had been able to use their ponchos to build tents or some simple shelter against the nightly rain.

  John sat under his plastic canopy eating a can of fruit cocktail, when he noticed a small brown snake. It was as thick as an average index finger and about ten inches long, slithering through puddles of mud in between his legs. “Shit!” He shrieked and propelled himself backward against the edge of his shelter.

  Those nearby looked over at John in stunned silence, unsure of what the commotion was all about.

  Even while jumping back, John kept his eye on the snake and saw it moving away from him.

  “Hey, guys, watch out! A snake is heading your way!”

  “Aw, shit, what kind?” BJ asked in a panic, picturing the snake in Desmond’s story. His wide eyes were frantically scanning the muddy ground between the two positions, watching for ripples.

  “I don’t know. It was small and brown, and moved pretty fast through the mud.”

  “Do you see him now?”

  “No. You probably scared the shit out of him when you hollered out. He most likely turned and went the other way.”

  “That ain’t funny. I’ll find the little bastard.”

  BJ picked up his rifle and used the stock to club the ground all around his position. The noise sounded like a child splashing through rain puddles on the way home from school. He quickly attracted the attention of the other squad members.

  “Beej, what in the fuck are you doing?” Frenchie asked more annoyed than concerned.

  “I’m looking for a snake that Polack saw crawling toward me a few minutes ago.”

  “Is it big?”

  “No. He said it was as small around like your finger and maybe twice as long.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t able to survive all that pounding. You probably knocked it silly and it drowned in the mud. Just let it go; you’ll be ok.”

  “I’m really not sure about that.”

  BJ and John scanned the area between themselves for several more minutes. Confident that the creature was no longer lurking around, both sat back down and continued to finish their meals.

  John finished his fruit, placing the empty can to the side with the rest of the garbage, and then turned to pack the spoon away in his rucksack. He had just lifted the flap on one of the side pouches when he suddenly froze. A terrible stinging sensation buzzed in his left ring finger, and when he glanced down, he saw the rogue snake clamped to his digit.

  “Help! I’m bit! Get this motherfucker off me!” John screamed, trying violently to shake the serpent loose. “It won’t let go!” The snake held on tight and looked like a small whip cracking in the air.

  BJ and Frenchie were already moving toward him, each carrying a knife in their hand; Sixpack and Doc were close behind.

  When the snake finally released its grip, it shot through the air, traveling ten feet before landing in a puddle outside of the perimeter.

  John bent over and held his finger tightly as if trying to stop a flow of blood. “That fucking snake bit me!”

  “Try to find him so we can see if it’s poisonous or not,” Doc ordered, taking John’s hand in his, BJ, Frenchie, and Sixpack moved to the area where the snake might have landed. Using knives, they poked along the ground trying to find the illusive creature.

  Meanwhile, Doc examined the two puncture wounds under the beam of his small red-lens flashlight. “It doesn’t really look all that bad. How do you feel, Polack?”

  “I’m getting real hot and my heart’s racing like hell.”

  “Here, take this,” Doc handed him a yellow pill. “It’ll help you relax.”

  John swallowed the pill and immediately vomited it back up along with everything else he had eaten that night. He began shaking uncontrollably. The tremors were so bad that two men had to pin him down on the ground.

  “Better call a Medevac, Sixpack. That snake venom is doing a job on him. He’s burning up and going into convulsions.”

  Those nearby consoled John as Sixpack requested an Urgent Medevac, signifying a life and death evacuation. They tore down his canopy and placed him on the poncho, quickly packing his ruck and other belongings. BJ tied one of his ammo bandoliers and his own M-16 to John’s ruck; it was now BJ’s responsibility to carry the machine gun in John’s absence.

  The chopper touched down in the LZ within five minutes of receiving the call. Four men loaded John on board while a fifth tossed in his ruck and weapon.

  En route to the hospital, the onboard medic gave John a shot and opened an IV line in his arm. Then moving the convulsing soldier onto a stretcher, he tied him down to control the thrashing.

  In ten minutes, the Medevac landed at the 93rd Evac Hospital in Long Binh, where doctors awaited his arrival. They pulled him from the chopper and placed him onto a hospital gurney, then quickly wheeled him inside.

  First, the doctors stripped him naked and packed him in ice. John closed his eyes, hoping to stop the room from spinning, and then started choking on his own saliva. A nurse reacted quickly, propping his head on some pillows and turning him onto his side.

  One of the doctors walked up to the gurney, holding a small book in his hand. “Can you understand what’s going on?” He asked in a very concerned but professional voice.

  John could only nod his head affirmatively.

  “Good! While we are analyzing your blood, I’d like you to look at some pictures of snakes. See if you can recognize the one that bit you.”

  He turned the page and waited for a few seconds before turning to the next one, each showing a different species. Many looked alike, except for some small distinguishing characteristic.

  “Do any of these look familiar?” The doctor continued to turn the pages.

  “No,” he mumbled weakly. “It was small and brown, but that could be because it was raining and muddy.”

  “Take your time. Don’t pay too much attention to the colors
. Concentrate on the shapes and sizes. Note all the different heads.”

  When he flipped the page, the sight of one of the pictures made John open his eyes wide in recognition and fear. The doctor noted this reaction.

  “Is this the snake?”

  “Maybe, but I’m not certain. It was so quick.”

  “We’ll check the blood for this type of venom. So, try to relax. We can’t treat you until we’re sure of the species that bit you. Hang in there, and I’ll be back in just a bit.”

  He returned after what seemed like an eternity. “Luck is on your side, my friend. The picture and blood sample helped us to identify the snake.” He produced two syringes filled with a yellowish liquid and stuck one of them into each of John’s arms.

  “Like I was saying, you’re very lucky! The snake that bit you was a Banded Krait, the second most poisonous snake in all of Southeast Asia. Their venom attacks the nervous system, first paralyzing you, and then killing you by suffocation or a heart attack. You’ll be all right now. We caught it in time.” The doctor gave him a couple of encouraging pats on the leg. “We’ll put you in a ward and keep an eye on you for a couple of days. If everything turns out fine, you’ll be discharged and can rejoin your unit.”

  John was unrestrained, dressed in a hospital gown, and then wheeled through a series of corridors into one of the many wards. An orderly placed him onto an upper bunk and covered him with a blanket. A nurse arrived for routine temperature checks and blood pressure readings.

  “You’re going to be just fine. Enjoy the rest and air conditioning. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk in the middle of the ward. Just call out and I’ll come over. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  John looked down at the nurse, very relieved, and mumbled a quiet “thank you”.

  “You’re quite welcome!” she responded cheerfully.

  As she walked away, John turned his head and fell asleep.

  ~~~~~

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Spending the night in an air-conditioned hospital ward in Vietnam was not quite what John expected. He envisioned snuggling up in a nice soft bed, lying on clean sheets, covered with warm blankets. He looked forward to having a very peaceful night’s sleep, uninterrupted by either guard duty or annoying insects. In the morning, he expected breakfast in bed, taking care of some personal hygiene, and then going back to sleep for as long as he wanted. Only a portion of what he perceived would actually occur.

  To begin with, the nurses - although American and gorgeous - were a greater disturbance during the night than the insects had been in the jungle. They woke him every half-hour, prodding and shifting him into a position more suitable for checking his vitals. The nurses seemed sincere in their apologies and whispered softly for him to return to sleep when they finished. It was easy to fall back asleep after the first couple of checks, however, the routine soon got the best of him, and the luxury of sleep would evade him for the rest of the night. When breakfast finally arrived in the morning, he was exhausted and too tired to eat. Nevertheless, he made a feeble attempt at the powdered eggs and dry toast. After a couple of spoonfuls he set the tray aside, opting to wash it all down with watery orange juice.

  After collecting the breakfast trays, a nurse ordered him to get out of the bed and make it up. “There will be no sleeping during the day,” she ordered. His only option was sitting up in bed. Looking around, he saw many of the other patients already up and making their bunks. With some help, he managed to climb down and start working on his own.

  Afterwards, he sat up in bed, pondering his stay while looking over the ward. The vantage point from his bunk offered a view of more than a half of the cross-shaped building. John’s section housed patients who were recuperating from illnesses such as malaria, or, as in his case, snakebite. Another section had patients who overdosed on drugs and were in a coma or restrained to their beds while working through the withdrawals.

  The “illness section” was comprised of twenty bunks and a TV set in each of the two corners. The American Network in Vietnam played reruns of old favorites from back home, such as Gunsmoke, Laugh-In, Let’s Make A Deal and others. In the afternoon, clerks dispensed copies of the Stars and Stripes newspapers to the patients, affording them an opportunity to read instead of watching television. The newspaper was filled with articles about various in-country battles, discovered enemy caches, captured weapons and other articles from around the world.

  The nurses’ station stood in the center of the cross, thus providing them with an overall view of all four wards. Many patients - those permitted to walk - chose to hang out around the station during the day, watching, talking, or asking questions.

  On the second night, a nurse gave John a questionnaire requesting information about his next of kin. The military needed the info to send a telegram, informing the family that he was in the hospital recovering from an injury. A small space at the bottom was available for him to write a personal message if he so desired. He added a short sentence, “I’m okay and doing well. Do not worry! Love, Johnny.”

  On his fourth day at the hospital, there was some excitement as a General from the First Cav made his rounds through the various wards. He stopped by each patient, sharing small talk and spending a few minutes at every bedside. Before moving on to the next patient, his aide took a Polaroid picture of them talking and gave it to the patients as a remembrance of this historic visit.

  John left the hospital on the fifth day after he was admitted. An orderly took him to a room where the gear of every patient was stored while they were recovering. Each item had a tag attached with a large red cross, the owner’s name and unit written in black marker. He found his old set of fatigues, helmet, rucksack and rifle, and then pulled them all from the piles. The bottom line on the tag read, “93rd Evac.”

  John signed out of the hospital and immediately headed for the 90th Replacement Battalion, which was located just across the road. There, he would not have a problem finding a ride back to Cu Chi. Once at the 25th Infantry basecamp, getting back out to the field would be easy; the First Sergeant would make sure of that.

  John learned of his luck when reaching the center; a convoy was leaving shortly for Cu Chi with new in-country replacements (Cherries).

  The place had not changed a bit since John first arrived in Vietnam three and a half months earlier. He still had some down time, so he headed straight for Alice’s restaurant for a mouth-watering cheeseburger.

  Two hours later, John climbed onto a truck filled with replacements and became an instant celebrity. His fatigues were filthy, ripped, and smelling; Red Cross cards were still attached to his ruck and weapon. Taking a seat in the middle of the truck bed, he noticed twenty 'kids' - who had not even been in country for two days - surrounding him. They stared at him wide-eyed and intrigued. John was also the only one in the back of the truck carrying a weapon. When the convoy received the signal to move out, John thought about having some fun with the newbies. He pulled out a magazine from the bandolier of ammo and loaded his M-16, sitting silently, watching the terrain from the side of the truck.

  “Excuse me, sir.” One of the closest Cherries was the first to address him.

  “I’m not an officer,” John responded nonchalantly.

  “I’m sorry. Are you in the infantry?” He asked, but more humbly this time.

  “Yeah, I’m a grunt.”

  “Have you been in the hospital?”

  “Did you get wounded?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been in the hospital, and no, I didn’t get wounded. I almost died from snakebite. I’m heading back to Cu Chi with you guys so I can get back out to the bush.”

  “How long have you been in Vietnam?”

  “Almost four months.”

  “Is it really as bad as they say?”

  “It all depends. But personally, I’d rather be out there than in some firebase.”

  “Why is that?”

  “When you get there, you’ll see what I mean. Those f
irebases got hit all the time by rockets and mortars and all you can do is hunker down and pray you don’t get hit. You also spend much of your waking hours pulling work details of some kind. No thanks, I’d rather stay out in the field where it feels much safer.”

  “Did you kill anyone yet?” One of them asked boldly.

  “I don’t really know because I’ve never personally had an enemy soldier in my sights. When you walk into an ambush, you don’t see anybody, but can hear the weapons firing at you. At that point, your only option is to point your rifle in their direction and start shooting back at them. If you manage to find any dead bodies lying in the jungle, you’ll never know if it was your bullet that had hit him or not.”

  There were no more questions after that. Each of them sat, staring silently into space, digesting what they had just heard.

  When arriving at the Cu Chi training center, John jumped from the truck, wishing them good luck, and headed to the Wolfhound Battalion area.

  The company had been resupplied the day before, forcing John to stay there for the next two days. He was chosen for bunker guard on the first night and then for KP the following night.

  On his third day back, a clerk informed John that a resupply chopper was leaving at noon for Alpha Company, and the First Sergeant expected him aboard. With the entire morning available, John was not under any pressure to draw out supplies and pack. He took a well-deserved nap, then packed his ruck, and waited on the pad, ready to go, even before the engines started.

  On the way to the bush, John was excited and could not wait to see the rest of his friends. When landing, it was like a family reunion, they all gathered around, wanting to hear about his adventure. When finishing his tale, the squad started bringing John up-to-date on their happenings during the past week.