When out in the bush, the RTO needed to monitor his company frequency at all times, whether on the move or bushed for the night. At the start of the hump, John held the handset against his ear constantly, but this method did not last long. The constant rubbing, his numbing arms, and the hissing static of the radio made it an almost impossible task. This method was also dangerous as it prevented him from hearing sounds and noises around him, thereby, making him extremely nervous. During a break, one of the other RTO’s suggested that John remove his grenades from the rings on the shoulder harness and, instead, attach the handset there. After turning up the squelch and eliminating the white noise and static, John was able to hear both the conversations on the radio and the sounds of the jungle around him, much to his relief.
Every RTO carried two different styles of antennae when out in the field. A small, flexible, thin whip antenna, three feet long, would bend and give when moving through the heavy bush - this was much preferred and used most of the time. Sometimes, when signals were strong due to the close proximity of the units, the radio operators folded the whip antenna over and tucked the end into a loop on the utility straps. Every RTO preferred this method when on the move, especially in high grass or short underbrush; everyone was otherwise concealed, but the radio antenna stuck upward like a submarine’s periscope. The opportunity elated enemy snipers when seeing a bouncing antenna moving across a field; once in the crosshairs, he only needed to drop about three feet and fire off a few rounds. Many RTO’s lost their lives this way, falling dead before even hearing the shots. Unfortunately, Alpha Company’s units seldom operated close to one another, usually spreading across the entire AO, thus, making it necessary for the operators to extend their antenna fully to hear one another. During times like that, many RTO’s were extremely jumpy.
The other antenna, an extendable version, enabled long distance communication, and was used at night or when staying in a location for an extended period. It consisted of ten, two-foot sections of thin walled, three-eighths steel tubing; stretchable twine inside of the hollow tubes held the pieces together, providing a level of tension similar to that of a stretched rubber band. One end of each tube was oil-canned, telescoping over the other end of the following tube, like male and female connectors. An RTO held the base in his hand and let the tubes fall to the ground. With a little shaking and coaxing, the twenty-foot antenna assembled itself, the operator threading it through the overhead foliage before securing it to the radio.
The most hectic part of an RTO’s day was when the units stopped and began setting up their NDP for the night. After designating a central guard position, radio operators followed a set protocol, completing all the steps, before preparing their own sleeping areas or dinner. They disconnected rucksacks – leaving them in their potential sleep area, then relocated the radio to the watch area and swapped out the antennae. By that time, the L-T had their coordinates available, which needed to be encrypted and forwarded to the Company CP. His final task of the day was to record the locations of the other platoons and ambush squads, and plot their locations on a map with a grease pencil. Afterwards, they could set up a sleep area and cook dinner. If the NDP was in a wooded section, then having a hammock usually cut their set-up time in half. When the RTO finished with his radio duties, most of the other soldiers had already constructed their sleeping positions and finished eating dinner. Someone always volunteered to step in and monitor the radio while the operators readied themselves for the night.
The Platoon CP, consisting only of John and the L-T, were not part of a specific squad. Instead, they rotated every three days and attached themselves to a different squad after the resupply. Although his time in the evening was limited, John tried to join in on the nightly BS sessions. On those occasions when the CP attached to the First Squad, however, he made it a point to catch up on lost time with his closest friends.
The first two weeks of March had passed slowly, and the company moved around very little. The higher brass designated Alpha Company as the battalion reactionary force, keeping them on standby and within fifteen minutes of the nearest landing zone. If one of their sister companies ran into trouble, choppers airlifted the men to the hot spot, where they provided whatever support was necessary.
During those two weeks, Rod and John spent the time getting to know one another better. John really enjoyed the opportunity to get to know guys who lived across the country from his Michigan home.
“What did you do before joining the service, Rod?”
“Actually, my civilian days ended a week after graduating from high school in Hollywood, California.”
“Wow, Hollywood? Did you get to see all the movie stars and stuff?”
“You’d see some of them walking down the street occasionally, in certain restaurants, or driving by in their expensive cars and limos. I only met one star face-to-face. I took my prom date to the Brown Derby Restaurant. John Wayne was sitting at the next table and I had an opportunity to introduce myself and shake his hand. He even called me ‘pilgrim’.”
“Wow, that’s really cool! Is he as big as they say?”
“Hell, yes. He was like a giant next to me.”
“He’s my favorite actor. Did you see his Green Beret movie a couple of years ago?
“Yeah, I saw the movie, but I think it was more of a political statement than a war movie.”
“How so?”
“Well, back then, people didn’t know that much about Vietnam; it seemed like the government endorsed the movie to justify the U.S. sending soldiers here to stop communism. Shit like that happens with the Special Forces groups all the time, but the movie didn’t even give a hint on what us grunts are doing here.
“I never looked at it that way, but it does make sense. Let’s get back to the movie stars.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Polack. They’re ordinary people, just like us.”
“That’s because you saw them all the time. I just think it would be so far out to actually meet one.”
“Most of them are kind of uppity though, and don’t want to be bothered. You can just imagine what it’d be like to have fans constantly interrupting them for autographs and asking to pose for pictures. They have no privacy and gather a crowd wherever they go. I’m sure they just want to be normal like the rest of us.”
“Yeah, but sometimes the stars forget that fans are the ones who made them famous. Without them, the stars would just fade away.”
“That’s true to an extent, but hell, fans even chase after the ones who had short careers.”
“What did you do after high school?”
“I went straight to West Point.”
“West Point? Wow, that must have been tough.”
“It was, especially during the first couple of years. Imagine Basic Training, but twice as difficult and lasting all four years there. My last two years there were the best, though.”
“Were the initiations as bad as they say they are?”
“Shit, Polack. We were slaves to the upper classmen, and forced to pull their details. They fucked with us every chance they could. One person ordered us to do something, and then another would order us to do something different. When the first person came back, he chewed our ass out for not doing what he requested; the penalty was demerits and extra details. We were always in a state of confusion and punished for one thing or another.
“Besides having classes all day, my first year was filled with daily physical training, constant military drills, harassment, intimidation, extra drills and details, and homework; needless to say, we got very little sleep in between all that.”
“God, it must have been a real bitch.”
“That’s not the half of it. I also played football, so I had to put up with the bullshit from the senior players too.”
“Didn’t you get preferential treatment there because of your sports involvement?”
“Are you kidding? If a cadet couldn’t maintain a B average in his studies, then he couldn’t par
ticipate in the sports programs. West Point wanted to produce the best in everything. If you didn’t measure up to their high standards, you got booted out.”
“I don’t think I could have taken all that shit.”
“I don’t know how I managed either. But, looking back, it was well worth it. I’ve had it pretty easy since receiving my commission, and things will only get better when I get back to the states after Nam. With my combat duty and West Point background, I should make full bird by the time I retire.”
“So you’re gonna stay in the Army?”
“I’d be a fool not to.”
“How long do you think you’ll be staying out here in the bush?”
“I really don’t know. Normally, lieutenants spend six to eight months in a front line unit then get withdrawn to some rear job. Next week, I’ll have my six months in. You know, there’s a strong rumor circulating about the 25th Division pulling out of the Nam in a month and returning to Hawaii. So I don’t know what’ll really happen.”
“No shit? That’s the first time I heard that rumor. Why would they go to Hawaii?”
“That’s where their stateside home base is.”
“Does that mean we’ll all go to Hawaii?”
“I really don’t know. First, we need to find out what the criteria is going to be. In the Cav, everyone with seven months in country could leave with the Division. The rest, like me, were reassigned to other units.”
“Cool! That means I’ll be able to leave with them!”
“Now, just hold on a minute, Polack. I don’t even know if it’s going to happen, let alone how it’ll play out. I just mentioned it because you may have heard the rumor. Just don’t go getting your hopes up.”
“How can I not? Only having to stay here for one more month would be like a dream come true.”
“I wouldn’t think about it that way if I were you - just plan on spending a full year here. The military doesn’t usually repeat itself and is very creative in making some of their decisions. If the criterion is different than that of the First Cav and you end up not going to Hawaii as you expected, you might go off the deep end, get sloppy, and maybe even get yourself killed.”
“It’s okay to hope though, right?”
“Yeah, Polack, hoping is okay, as long as you aren’t disappointed with the results.”
Nevertheless, John rolled the thoughts around in his head and was optimistic about the possibility of making the cut.
“Rod, now that you’ve worked with us for a couple of weeks, how do you compare us with the Cav?”
“There’s no comparison, because it’s an entirely different story here. You grunts spend an awful lot of time walking over the same terrain chasing the enemy away. The only time you make contact and get a body count is when you stumble into one of their base camps. The First Cav is air mobile, and we would CA (combat assault) into an area, and hunt down gooks that were spotted from the air.
We always had running firefights and hasty ambushes, catching the enemy by surprise with dozens of helicopters at our disposal all the time. Sometimes, we would land, be extracted, and moved somewhere else after four hours. Down here with the Twenty-Fifth, there’s just too much walking around and chasing ghosts.”
The next few days turned out to be just as Rod had described. Alpha Company humped on endlessly, looking for the invisible enemy. The VC stayed well hidden, avoiding the Americans at all costs. The grunts still suffered casualties requiring Medevacs, but this was limited to heatstroke and heat exhaustion only.
The rumors about the division leaving Nam grew stronger every day, and ranged from ordering a full pullout to a total reassignment.
Beautiful Hawaii was suddenly a general topic of conversations. People had their own visions of the paradise. Some romanticized it - imagining themselves lying peacefully on a beach and listening to the rolling surf of the ocean, others planned sightseeing trips to dramatic waterfalls and volcanoes, or to view tropical birds in flower-laden, fragrant jungles. Humping the boonies was no longer a concern, nor was eating out of cans and sleeping on the ground. Pulling stateside duty in a tropical utopia was a dream in itself. As civilians, many of the men wished to visit Hawaii, but few could afford the high cost of air fare and travel expenses. For most of the men, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Excitement ran rampant.
John was beginning to feel guilty about not going out on the small recon patrols. Besides, staying behind and monitoring the radio was boring, and the excitement just was not there anymore.
He pleaded with Rod, asking for permission to go out on daily patrols with First Squad whenever they were traveling together. At first, the L-T was reluctant, but seeing John’s continued disappointment, Rod finally approved his request and even monitored the radio in his absence.
The First Squad members were always happy when John joined them on their short patrols; it seemed like old times again. The guys also appreciated his experience in the event that they ran into the enemy while out on patrol. It was a great change of pace but short-lived.
After a week, the official word came down from Division - and most of the rumors had come true. Alpha Company would return to Cu Chi in eleven days and begin out-processing. The men were ecstatic, as the war was finally ending for them.
~~~~~
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The battalion lifers still wanted one last battle before leaving the country, so running up a body count became their top priority. Some of the pacifists would say that their strategic game of toy soldiers was quickly ending, so it was an opportunity to make the headlines and go home in style.
As it turned out, each company’s final mission was to revisit whichever area had resulted in their highest body counts during the last four months. It was ironic that they did not consider the fact that these companies also lost many men in the same battles.
Alpha Company would revisit the area where they lost Zeke. The majority of the lower-ranking soldiers did not even know they were back in that same area of operations, because all of the terrain they patrolled looked the same. It was also important to note that since that earlier battle, sixty percent of the Alpha Company's grunts were new troops, fresh from the states. None of them knew Zeke or were aware of the earlier fights; half had not been in a firefight yet. The old timers were concerned about the risk factor, especially since Captain Fowler decided that the company would operate in platoon-sized units during that last week and a half.
For the first three days, Rod and John attached themselves to the First Squad. On their first break together, John moved over and sat next to Sixpack; Rod busied himself with a compass and his map.
“I’ve seen some familiar sights already, Sixpack, and it’s bringing back some bad memories I have of this place.”
“Yeah, same goes for me. It does worry me, though, that we had to come back to this place anyway, and this time, with so many Cherries. Only you, Doc, and I really know what this AO did to a bunch of good guys.”
“I know what you mean. I’m scared shitless. It’s unbelievable that with only ten days left in this fucking hellhole, the brass was so concerned about running up the body counts. Have you seen the activity on the trail? There are VC out there! If I was in command, I’d pull everyone out of the field and let them hole-up somewhere where it’s safe.”
“I’ve seen the signs too, but I’m just hoping the VC stay out of our way so we don’t have to lose anybody else.”
“Do you remember, Sarge, this is the same area where Larry and I had our Cherry busted and survived our first firefight? I sure don’t want it to be the place where I have my last one. I’d be the happiest motherfucker in the world if I never saw another enemy soldier or had to fire my weapon again.”
“You and I both, buddy,” his voice trailed off and he stared into the sky, deep in thought.
“Hey Sixpack!”
“What?” He seemed agitated with John’s disturbance.
“Do you think the VC knows we’re leaving the co
untry?”
“You can bet your sweet ass they do. If they were smart, they’d stay out of our way for the next week and a few days. The ARVN will most likely take over this area after we leave. The VC should get ready for a big shootout with them.”
“Ha, that’s a joke. You know as well as I do they very seldom go out into the field and they just stay put in their base camps.”
“Yeah, I know that too. There’s only one thing bothering me about this area - no other friendly forces have been here since we last left; the enemy had plenty of time to rebuild their little camps or even add new ones. I just hope Rod doesn’t walk us right into one of them.”
“Why don’t you go fill the L-T in about this place? Maybe he’ll let us skate and just hunker down someplace for a while.”
“I doubt it, but I’ll talk to him anyway.”
“I’m kind of tight with him. You want me to go with you?”
“Naw, it’ll be more official if I go alone.”
As soon as Sixpack walked away, Doc slid over. “How’re you holding up, Polack?”
“Shit, Doc. Look at me; I’m shaking like a leaf.” He held his arm out to show a slight tremor in his hand.
“I don’t blame you. I didn’t extend my tour to come back to this shitty place. There’s something evil in the air here. I got a weird feeling that some of us ain’t gonna leave this place alive.”
“Aw, come on, Doc. Don’t start that kind of shit.”
“I’m serious. Just look at all those Cherries over there,” he pointed to the young soldiers sitting alongside the trail. “They don’t have a clue about this place, and I know for a fact that most of them haven’t even been in a firefight yet.” Doc paused and looked down at the ground. “At least the last time we were here, we had all seasoned vets with us.”
“Yeah, and the VC still kicked our asses.”
Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition Page 33