The inactivity, however, soon bored the battalion lifers, and they began making drastic changes - mirroring stateside duty before the week was even over. Company formations now took place every day in the morning and evening, to accommodate both bunker guard shifts. Every person was required to shave daily and get a haircut once a week. Boots had to be polished, beds had to be made daily with square corners, barracks cleaned, and an officer performed walk through inspections every other day. Battalion officers banned the wearing of non-military issued clothing and jewelry when in the camp; this did not go over well with the militant ‘brothers’ who continued to wear small items in defiance to the rule.
Since these inspections began, polishing muddy, worn-out boots, cleaning barracks, and policing the grounds consumed most off-duty time, not leaving much time for sleeping or other personal activities. The men began taking advantage of their time on guard duty to sleep and catch up on reading or letter-writing. There were always two men in each bunker, so taking turns on watch was not a problem,
As if this constant state of flux and order-changing was not confusing enough, the rules changed again after the second week - this time, however, it was to the young soldiers’ advantage. When the Marines ran the camp, they employed young hooch boys and girls from the nearby village to take care of all the cleaning, paying as little as five dollars a week. Battalion granted the men permission to rehire these young, enthusiastic workers; four to each barrack, they worked long hours to please their new camp employers. They polished jungle boots, washed clothing and linen, and kept the barracks and grounds immaculate. The money spent was well worth it and the men regained some of the leisure time they had lost a week earlier.
Life on the base soon bored the soldiers; nothing new happened outside of bunker guard, and the novelty quickly wore off.
At the end of the first month, John was on radio watch in the CP when Cap approached with good news. “Polack, I’d like you to know that I’ve recommended you for promotion to sergeant.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, no shit!”
“Thank you, Cap, that’s great news! When will I get my stripes?”
“You’ll have to earn them. If all goes well, you should be scheduled to stand in front of the review board within a week.”
“Review board? What’s that all about?”
“Didn’t you know that promotion to E-5 and above had to be approved by a review board?”
“No, I didn’t. What do they do?”
“They’ll ask you questions about military procedures and weapons, judge you on your appearance, and the military manner in which you conduct yourself during the interview.”
“You mean I have to go in front of them and answer questions?”
“You sure do.”
“Who’s on this board?”
“Normally, there are five officers from the battalion who sit on a board like this, usually meeting about once a month.”
“Is that all there is to it? After the interview I get my stripes?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. It’s really a test. You’ll need to know your shit and be able to impress the hell out of them.”
“Why is that?”
“Polack, just because you go in front of the board doesn’t mean an automatic promotion.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Hell no! There might be one-hundred soldiers going in front of that board, but division may only have twenty allocations available within the battalion. After the board interviews you, they’ll rate you - like in the Olympics - and place you in line according to your score. If there are only twenty openings available, then the top twenty will get the stripes.”
“How in the hell do I study for something like that?”
“Go see Top. He’s got some manuals in his bookcase that might help you.”
“Thank you, Cap. I’ll go and visit him after my watch is over.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.” Cap walked to the doorway, stopping before opening the screen door. “Hey, Polack?”
John looked at Cap standing in the doorway; the captain gave John the thumbs up sign. “Good luck,” he said and then exited the building.
Later when John arrived at Top’s hooch, he knocked on the door, entering when the First Sergeant acknowledged him. Top sat at his desk, holding a couple of books in his outstretched left hand.
“Hey, Top, Cap asked me to come and see you about some books.”
“They’re right here,” he nodded toward the two Army manuals in his hand and pushed them toward John.
“How did you know I was going to ask for them?”
“It’s part of my job to know everything that’s going on around here.”
“Shit, you got ESP or something?”
“No, I don’t,” he replied, chuckling. “Cap was in here a little while ago and asked me if I had any books to help with your exam. When I showed him these, he said he was going over to talk to you.”
“Will these books tell me what I need to know for the board interview?”
“They should. Ninety percent of the questions and answers come from these books.”
“Way to go, Top!” John cheered enthusiastically.
“You know you’re the only candidate for E-5 representing Alpha Company, so you take these books and you study ‘em really hard. If you need help, then come and see me. I want you on top of that promotion list. It’ll be a plus for Alpha Company.”
“Why will it be a plus for the company?”
“Polack, it’s just like being a parent. The things your kids do always reflect back on you. If your kids are wild and raunchy, then other adults will blame the parents for not giving a shit and raising their kids poorly. In our case, if you pass, it’ll show battalion that those of us in Alpha Company are doing our job and training you properly.”
“Makes sense - what kind of chance do you think I have?”
“Your chance of making it will be the same as everybody else facing the board. You have an edge though, as there are not too many of these manuals floating around. Just study hard. I think you’ll make a fine NCO.”
“Okay, Top. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem, son. It will be a snap. Now get the fuck out of my hooch. I’m sure you have better things to do than standing here all goo-goo eyed.”
John was startled and did not expect him to react this way. “I’m going, I’m going,” he replied and back-stepped toward the door.
“Haven’t you forgotten something, troop?”
“No, I don’t think so…” he stammered. “I thanked you, and I do have the books,” John motioned to the books in his hand.
“That’s not what I meant, shit-for-brains. What do you say when you leave the presence of an officer or NCO in this fine division?”
John thought for a second, then answered with a grin when it suddenly came to him: “Airborne, Top!”
“All the way! Now wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and get the fuck out of here.”
John rushed through the doorway, and once outside, turned to look inside. Top was shaking his head and laughing. He got a big kick out of needling people, and John never knew if he was serious or just toying with him.
The Army manuals were the driest reading material John had ever read. The manuals contained technical information, rules, regulations, strategy, and logical theory. At times, it took him almost an hour just to get through one page, because he kept nodding off while reading. John soon learned that it was much easier to scan through the manuals, spending a few moments reading the unfamiliar pages. By the end of the week, he had paged through each book three times and was comfortable with the knowledge he had gained.
When his turn came to face the board, John presented himself sharply, and successfully answered every question with little or no hesitation. The manuals had been a great help for the technical and regulatory answers, but the rest of the answers only required common sense and good judgment. The offic
ers asked the last question forty minutes later. After his final response, the board members congratulated him and wished him well. Dismissed, John saluted and then executed a precision about face before walking out of the room.
He was very pleased with the interview and felt confident that he would place near the top of the list. Now, he just needed to remain patient and wait for the posted results.
John knocked on Top’s door to return the manuals, but there was no answer. Peering through the screen door, he saw the hooch was vacant. Against his better judgment, he opened the door and quickly placed the manuals in the center of the desk. Then, taking a blank sheet of paper from the stack next to the typewriter, he scrawled a quick note: ‘It was a snap! Thanks for all your help, Top - AIRBORNE!’ He placed it face-up on top of the books, and made a beeline for the door.
The battalion was on Brooks for six weeks when another rumor surfaced about them leaving the base camp and returning to the field. It was quite unsettling to hear that a majority of the grunts were hoping the rumor was true; they had their fill of spit and polish, welcoming the chance to duck bullets and kill Communists again.
During his stay on the hill, John had made numerous observations regarding the men in the battalion. The ‘stoners’ and ‘peaceniks’ were comfortable with life in the camp and preferred to stay, if given the opportunity. On the other end of the spectrum, the boozers - beer and whiskey drinkers - were more aggressive and sometimes appeared masochistic. Lifers and Cherries fell somewhere in between. The short timers, on the other hand, were a paranoid group; with only weeks left before going home, they never wanted to set foot into the bush again. John fell into the last category with only six weeks remaining in Vietnam; the current assignment suited him just fine.
All during that next week, small groups of ARVN soldiers were arriving daily by trucks and began replacing Americans in bunkers around the perimeter. Once again, the rumor started to play itself out as the first of the battalion’s companies left Camp Brooks and returned to the bush. Alpha Company had not yet received the official word, but the handwriting was on the wall; only the day and destination were missing.
Alpha Company learned over the weekend that their life of luxury was ending on Monday. The grunts were to surrender everything accumulated during their stay on Brooks, giving all the supplies to the ARVN when they took over; nobody could use or wanted to carry any of the stuff in the bush anyway.
Many of the men resented the decision to leave behind those treasures that helped make their stay more comfortable and civilized. Of course, they followed orders and turned everything over to the supply clerk, but, according to a unanimous and surreptitious plan, the electric fans, radios, etc., had all been methodically disassembled. They had combined all the electrical cords from the fans into one large box, while fan blades, motors, and protective covers filled several other boxes.
It was not the intent of the men to destroy everything out of spite before leaving the camp, but they acted out of principal. The ARVN had a sleazy reputation, and the Americans were well aware that anything left behind would end up on the Black Market within days.
On Sunday, the last day in the camp, some of the Alpha Company men raided the day room after dinner. They removed the rear cover from the television set and used a wooden broom handle to pry off the plug from the picture tube. Even though the power cord was unplugged, a bright arcing spark jumped out when the plug disengaged. Luckily, one of the young men was knowledgeable enough to know that tubes stored electricity, and thus, took precautions. One of the men severed the plug from the bundle of wires, discarding it, and then reattached the rear cover.
Next, the men staged a mini-Olympics event and collected all the pool cues and balls, taking them to the perimeter. They invented games using the equipment. One guy from the First Platoon received a gold medal for throwing his javelin (pool stick) the furthest.
Alpha Company was the last company of grunts to leave Camp Brooks. While waiting on the helicopter pad for their transportation to the bush, several discussions took place relating to their former treasures. If the officers were aware of the men’s mischief the night before, they offered no hint or said anything about it.
Not one person in Alpha had any idea of what the other units might have done with their items during their last night in the camp. Those Alpha men, taking the boxes to supply on the last day, recalled seeing very little of the luxuries stored in supply. Therefore, they had to assume that the rest of the battalion had left everything behind in the barracks for the next group to enjoy. If this were true, the ARVN must be celebrating and waiting to take possession of the rest of the bounty after Alpha Company left the base.
Laughter was contagious across the chopper pad as speculation spread about the baffled looks on the ARVN’s faces when they opened the many cartons of Alpha Company’s surrendered treasures. All agreed it would have been priceless to witness that and most were sorry they would miss it.
~~~~~
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Alpha Company was air lifted to another notorious destination called Happy Valley. Not too far from Da Nang, the area was less hostile at that time than it was earlier in the war. After landing, they joined up with the rest of the battalion - already providing security for the Marines - who had a firebase on a nearby hilltop overlooking the valley. The Marines were required to dismantle everything before they could vacate the hill and go home.
The Airborne Battalion planned to stay close by for up to a week until the Marines had destroyed every bunker and piece of unnecessary equipment. Nothing was to remain for either the enemy or the ARVN. If either of them wanted to move onto the hilltop, they would have to rebuild from scratch.
Non-stop activity hummed in the firebase and the Marines worked hard and long hours to complete the task. The daily sounds of explosions and overhead Marine helicopters continued to be a distraction to those on the valley floor running patrols around the base of their hill.
From their vantage point, the grunts could not see the actual activity in the firebase. The bunkers, visible earlier in the week, were now gone; The Marines used the dirt from sandbags to fill in the holes and then burned the empty bags in a large bonfire. Dozens of helicopters filled the sky daily, pulling out salvaged lumber, artillery guns, and anything else of value from the hilltop. The rolls of barbed wire, mines, and trip flares on the perimeter remained in place until the very end. On that last day, scores of Marines spilled over the side of the hill, working in small groups to remove the last of the perimeter defenses. It was the first time those in the valley actually saw the soldiers above. It was like watching an anthill from below; every dark figure moving continuously, dozens traveling back and forth over the crest of the hilltop at any given time. Some accidents occurred when the trip flares ignited, but as there were no injuries, nobody cared.
It was close to mid-afternoon when the last helicopter filled with Marines took off from the hilltop location. The real estate was now up for grabs.
The week passed without incident and many of the airborne grunts wondered why the enemy had not taken advantage of the situation. Artillery, mortars, and rockets could have been devastating to the Marines, especially if the enemy had waited until that last day after the Marines destroyed everything on the hilltop. They were exceptionally lucky.
After the first week back in the bush, battalion continued moving the companies further south each day. Not looking for anything in particular, it was their way of sending a message to the enemy that Americans were still actively patrolling through the area. After finding absolutely no signs of the enemy during the next several days, Alpha Company was withdrawn from the field and flown to the airbase in Da Nang.
Their stay was extremely short. A dozen Deuce and a Half trucks and several APC’s awaited them at the edge of the airfield, the convoy leaving as soon as Alpha Company climbed onboard. The convoy traveled north on the main highway, stopping after thirty miles to drop off the Alpha Company grunts at y
et another firebase; the rest of the convoy then continued to their final destination, Firebase Tomahawk. Unbeknownst to the grunts, this firebase was located on top of a mountain and they would have to walk up the steep, mile-long trail to reach it.
When arriving, the grunts stood next to a towering mountain on the side of the highway; a vertical, ten-foot wide dirt track snaked along and ringed the mountainside all the way up to the top and Firebase Tomahawk. It angered the grunts when the truck drivers informed them that the trucks would not transport them up to the top, and instead, they would have to make the treacherous journey on foot.
Walking up the trail was so much different than climbing the mountains in the bush. Out there, the going was slow and handholds were plentiful to help pull a person up. Time was not normally an issue, and some hills had taken days to climb. On this ascending dusty trail, however, the pace was much faster and more difficult. The brass expected the company to reach the summit within an hour and Cap was pushing the men upwards, but after only fifteen minutes, many of them could not continue. Most had trouble catching their breath in the thin mountain air, some suffered from cramps in their sides, thighs and calves, and every once in awhile - just like dominoes - they all fell out to the inside of the trail. Even the captain was unable to continue and needed to take a break with his men.
A bulldozer had cut this trail into the side of the mountain, and just beyond the outer edge, the earth fell away in a sheer drop off. The soldiers instinctively stayed to the inside of the lane and now fully understood why they were not able to ride the trucks to the top. Nobody risked walking in the loose gravel to the outside of the path, for fear of slipping and falling over the side.
The view was incredible from the trail, becoming more scenic the higher they climbed. The countryside below was mostly rice paddies and small villages, and, because there were no nearby hills or dense jungles, one could see for several miles.
It took almost an hour and a half for the last man to cross the finish line on the summit. It was the most difficult climb ever for many of the troops; some compared the experience to Basic Training in Fort Knox, Kentucky when they continuously marched up the two murderous hills called ‘Agony’ and ‘Misery’. Once reaching the top, they found the surrounding scenery breathtaking. From a mile up, there were no signs of war below and the 360-degree view extended for miles in every direction. To the north, a large mountain range loomed in the distance; the highway they traveled earlier snaked through the pass. On the east, the South China Sea glistened like a mirror, reflecting the sparkling sun in every direction. Small sampans and fishing boats motored around near shore, and not a single military ship was on the horizon. The western and southern most views extended for several miles until the mountains and surrounding jungle took over the landscape. This was truly a magnificent gift from Mother Nature; the hilltop took on the appearance of a tourist stop as dozens of cameras captured the vistas from every direction.
Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition Page 42