When I first started [in Vietnam], it was just typing everything, but eventually I wormed my way into—our sergeant major, who was really—we had a colonel, but the sergeant major really ran the office—I became his left hand girl [chuckles], and I learned a lot. He taught me how to do things that most women weren’t supposed to be doing. Women were only really supposed to type. You know, we weren’t smart enough to do anything else. Serious—I’m serious! So he had let me get in on—I don’t even know if we have viewgraphs anymore. He let me get on making those for some of the projects. We had our engineer projects that we’d take down to General—what’s his name—I’ve forgot the general’s name. He would approve them. A viewgraph is like a plastic sheet and you—not paint it, but you mark it so that when you put it on a projector like thing, it would go up on a big board. I don’t know why. We made these for briefings. We were engineers and we handled the counting of rubber trees, certain water purification equipment—a lot of weird stuff. It seemed like every little engineer group had little things that needed to be acquired, and we would acquire them for them. And like water purification was a big thing out in the field. So we would have to go here and find a piece of this and that, you know, like a supply depot almost. So we had to get all the—the work finding the stuff. And the sergeant major was teaching me, as I was going along, all these different skills. We had—we were in charge of counting rubber trees, because we had to pay the French for each rubber tree that was shot. So I got in on that detail because I could go up in a helicopter and that was fun. Then we had bridges that were damaged or needed to be built. We had to go out and do blueprints—mostly from the air—of what needed to be done; and then we would take it back, and almost break it down by photograph of what needed to be required to do it.
[Wilson explains that she had a foot, so to speak, in two camps. During the day, she worked for the sergeant major and with engineers; but she was also part of the female detachment and under the supervisory control of female company commander, who wanted women to conform fully to regulations, even if those regulations denied a great number of opportunities. Women, for example, were not allowed to fly in helicopters.]
I didn’t tell them. [She laughs.] The sergeant major and the colonel knew—he knew. But women—we were—Let’s see, how do you explain it? The WAC detachment had our living and feeding—[that] was their priority. Like in the states, the WAC detachment—whatever they call it now—that was their thing, but they weren’t really my boss. My boss was where I worked, but I was attached to the WAC detachment. And so we figured, “Hey, you know, they don’t need to know.” The sergeant major and the colonel, they all knew what we were supposed to do and what we weren’t. So if I were to ever get into trouble they would have stepped up and said “Excuse me, we’re the boss.” Because sometimes we worked—I got out of a lot of details because we worked like six and a half—sometimes seven days a week—like twelve to sixteen hours, longer sometimes. So we were busy. When they wanted something done, you know, I always volunteered. They said, “Hey, you don’t know how to do that!”
“Yeah, I’ll learn.” Anything like that—but it was just so interesting. And again that’s—you know—We would go up in choppers and I’d take photographs—classified photographs—and that would give us what needed to be done on the ground. I think [the men] saw that we could do more—my bosses did. I don’t think the company commander of the WACs there [did]. That’s how women were treated back then. We were only supposed to do these certain things. A lot of—most of MOSs [Military Occupation Specialties] were not open to us. And I think that’s—I’m positive that those of us that were in Vietnam opened the door to a lot that’s opened up now for the women. It’s like the women in World War II—the nurses—they were sent to combat, and that opened the door for all the nurses with the enlisted women back then—there were very few of them—and the ones that were, were doing office duties.
But in Vietnam—like in Europe they were stationed in London, or someplace like that—but in Vietnam there wasn’t a safe place to hide. So a lot of us did things that proved and opened the doors for the women nowadays that have—I get tickled when I see women helicopter [pilots] and things like that. I still don’t like them in direct combat, you know, there’s so many doors open to them now; whereas we had very few doors open. I think over there [the men] were more open because they realized that, “You know, hey, these girls over here, they’re pretty smart.” And most of us were young, and I think that back then I was young and our CO [commanding officer] and company commander and the supply sergeants—they were old. They had to be at least thirty. [She chuckles.] So you know we saw them as the old ladies. But I really think that everybody’s eyes were opened back then—the men especially.
Barbara J. Dulinsky
(1928–1995)
U.S. Marine Corps
Barbara Dulinsky was the first of eight female officers and twenty-eight enlisted women Marines to serve in Vietnam. Assigned as the Top Secret Control Officer for the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) Headquarters from March 1967 to March 1968, she supervised enlisted personnel, processed correspondence, and maintained custody of more than five thousand classified documents. She retired as a sergeant major. The excerpts below are taken from her unpublished memoir, held in the Archives and Special Collections branch of the Library of the Marine Corps.
The first question most generally asked about my tour in Vietnam, was it voluntary? Well, yes and no. In February 1967, I was completing a tour as First Sergeant of Recruit Company, Woman Recruit Training Battalion, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, South Carolina. As anyone who has served in a Recruit Training Command, when your tour is completed, you’re ready to go, but not necessarily to Vietnam. . . . [I said when a major from Marine Corps Headquarters asked if I “was interested in going to Saigon”:] “Major, you’ve got to be out of your mind, I’m a devout coward.” . . . Also, at this time, the news medias were filled with Viet Cong terrorist activities in Saigon, blowing up BOQs, theaters, and anything that had American advisors and/or families in them. I just felt anyone volunteering for such duty had to be partially demented or lacking a full sea bag. I gave a negative response to a couple of more telephone calls from [Marine Corps Headquarters].
[Director of Women Marines Col. Barbara Bishop coaxed Dulinsky to “volunteer” for the assignment.]
Prior to my departure from Parris Island, in my checking out process, I inquired as to what the uniform of the day would be upon reporting to Travis [Air Force Base]. With all the air of knowledgeable authority that only a company clerk can convey (I should know, I certainly practiced it on many a poor soul) I was told, “Winters, of course, that’s your departing uniform of the day.” My intuition told me this was dumb. . . . [Dulinsky dutifully changed into her winter wool uniform at Travis AFB. By the time she reached the Philippines, she said, the uniform had turned into “a walking wool steam bath.” The commercial airliner on which she flew, in contradiction of policy, landed during the dark on February 18, 1967—under fire.]
• • •
After all the literature I had read concerning personal conduct while in Vietnam, on that night I was to learn that there were exceptions to the rule of courtesy.
The convoy, led by two gun jeeps, ran helter-skelter through a Vietnamese hamlet, scattering people, dogs, vendors, stray chickens, and everything in sight. . . .
Above the din of the bus driver running through the shifting of gears and the commotion from without, I managed to ask the driver why. “It doesn’t give Charlie a chance to throw a grenade under us,” was his reply. Oh, I thought, isn’t that just peachy-keen.
• • •
My life as a Marine had never been too far from an iron, so I naturally had taken one with me. Needless to say there was no laundry room in the hooch I was in, so my suitcase (God bless Samsonite) with towel over the top became one of the best portable ironing boards I’ve ever used. Getting a summer uniform ready for the follow
ing day was my first priority. It was a struggle getting the one-piece Dacron uniform pressed to my specifications, but my cover was a real bear. Fortunately, I had a can of “Fabric Finish” with me that made the task less painful. . . .
Once the bus passed over the Saigon River bridge into the city of Saigon it was unbelievable. The din of honking Renault taxi cabs (if you ever want to see the height of ridiculous, see a six-foot GI crammed into the back seat of a Renault cab), motorized pedi-cabs, one trillion motorcycles, bicycles, and a swarming multitude of humanity all going in different directions. . . . The stench of fish heads and rice penetrated the air and combined with exhaust from the vehicles created a horrible stench. I don’t believe that anyone could dream up a torture worse than being caught in a bus, in downtown Cholon, behind a garbage truck. This too became an adjustment that was just accepted and you just became part of it. . . .
[On the following day], I was taken to my duty assignment as Top Secret Control Officer/Custodian of Classified Documents. . . . Colonel Adrian St. John, U. S. Army, was the CO of the center.
If I had an ice pick, it would have made it easier to have chipped away the ice after my interview with Colonel St. John. A dynamic individual, but it was obvious that “no woman” could fill the billet, not in his eyes at least. There began my first real challenge.
Women Marines have but one man to thank for getting the job that they were originally sent to Vietnam to do, and that was Brigadier General John R. Chassion, USMC. Fortunately, he was the director of the Combat Operations Center and senior Marine officer in MACV.
I found out later from two of my operations NCOs that when Colonel St. John found out he was getting a woman replacement for GySgt Blanton, he had a fit. He and the XO made several trips to see the general. But General Chassion insisted that I was to be given a chance. Captain Jones was also to be placed in a public information job at MACV, but again General Chassion put the nix on that and she too assumed her assignment as OIC, Marine Liaison Section when she arrived in country in July of 1967.
• • •
On certification of my clearance, I then started standing evening watches along with other Operations personnel. An incident occurred that was to change the attitude of my CO and XO.
It was when I stood my first security watch that ended at 2000. There were still operations officers working in the Plans section along with Colonel St. John. I am sure to this day that I had cleared my desk of all classified material before I secured to go to dinner.
Later in the evening when Colonel St. John was about to close the vault, he glanced down to see a Top Secret document laying in my bottom basket. Since I was the only one who had the combination and Colonel St. John would not have gone down to the War Room to get the combination . . . I was off to a flying start.
The next morning, one of my Ops sergeants warned me of what had occurred, so I awaited my summons. Instead, the XO called myself and all of Ops sergeants and clerks together and started chewing everyone out. That bothered me, since it was my watch and I was responsible. I interrupted the colonel and identified my responsibility for the securing of documents and didn’t think the others should share this reprimand. His whole attitude changed, and it became a security reminder, rather than a chewing out. With that, I developed the respect of both the CO and XO and the lofty of my Operations sergeants and clerks. Apparently, it was a shock to the Army that anyone would accept their responsibility.
• • •
Of some of the close calls I had, I guess the most terrifying was the Tet Offensive, February 1968. I and many others who were billeted in Saigon proper had our first taste of real war.
The Tet Offensive opened with a big bang. I had the early watch and had arrived down in the lobby of our BEQ to find it in darkness and sentries lying prone on the deck with lights out and weapons poked through the iron grating towards the street. Some of the male personnel from our BEQ with weapons (of undetermined origin) were lying alongside the two sentries. . . .
A Navy chief . . . arrived in the lobby shortly after me.
There was a shortwave radio in the lobby . . . that was squawking and squeaking voices of other Security Forces telling also of their plight and asking for reinforcement.
In this case, the best part of valor was to make a hasty retreat to the eighth floor for a cup of coffee and to try to find out what was happening.
We were to learn that five VC had tried to lay a satchel charge up against our BEQ and the alert sentry dropped one of them and the others took off at high port. Those who were in the lobby awaiting earlier transportation found not weapon one in the BEQ armory, so went to their rooms and assembled some “souvenirs.” So until proper security reinforcements arrived, security was based on Yankee ingenuity.
My three-day confinement to the BEQ was to commence with a panoramic view of the war from a hotel window.
As we arrived at the eighth floor, we grabbed a cup of coffee, stopped to listen to the Armed Forces Radio Station from a portable radio that some kind soul had sense enough to bring with him, and it was to be our last bit of “official” news for three days.
The announcer had just related the news that the VC had satchel-charged the wall of the American Embassy Saigon, and Eighth Air Cavalry helicopters had moved in for support and to remove the Embassy guard from the roof. . . . So the chief and I stepped over to the windows that faced toward the Embassy and as dawn was breaking, watched the opening of the Tet Offensive.
Intelligence had known that there was a buildup of enemy activity, but they had underestimated their strength.
From our bird’s-eye view, we watched the Marine embassy guard being airlifted off the Embassy rooftop. . . . I remember the helpless feeling of not being able to respond in some way. Also I remember trying to control the fear in the pit of my stomach, the feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming.
Radio Armed Forces warned all personnel to remain in their quarters, and units and personnel would be informed by radio or messenger when they were to report to their units.
After watching armored vehicles and jeeps rushing around in the streets below and listening to all sorts of speculation, I retired to my second floor to get away from the hubbub. I slipped out of my uniform and tried to relax. It was next to impossible. Firecrackers are part of the Tet holiday, and either because of ignorance of what was going on, or indifference, the Saigon celebrants continued to set the crackers off. In a narrow street or alley they had the effect of gunfire. After a couple of hours of struggling to rest, I gave up, took a shower to get rid of the odor of fear, climbed into some shorts and went back up to the mess.
I think through this ordeal, the most difficult thing was not knowing how close friends that were located at other BOQs or BEQs spread throughout Saigon and Cholon were doing. . . . Captain Jones got out to BEQs as soon as she could to check on the women Marines.
When I arrived back at the mess, some of those who had been at their sections at the execution of the Tet Offensive were beginning to return. They were to be our only source of information for three days. Those who had been wounded and could walk were returned to their quarters. The 17th Army Field Hospital was a half block down the street from us and by leaning out the window, you could watch helicopter ambulances delivering the wounded by stretchers. . . .
By glancing straight ahead, once could see the South Vietnamese Air Force laying bombs down on Cholong with their T-28s trying to shake the Viet Cong loose from their hold there. Through these three days it all seemed like a bad dream. My original response to Major Hilgart with regards to this assignment was to come roaring back to my thoughts more than once. I think everyone was anxious to get back to their unit, do anything but be idle.
• • •
The Vietnamese [housekeeping staff] were restricted from entering any American facilities until new security checks were made, but allowed to have Vietnamese galley help from 0700 to 1400 so that left the dinner meal up to management. So Army, Air Force, and Marine
women took on volunteer mess duty on their own and helped secure the galley each evening. (At this time there were no enlisted Navy women assigned to Vietnam.)
I learned to do Vietnamese style laundry during the first few days of Tet. With a scrub brush and soap in the bottom of my shower stall and stringing my uniforms and unmentionables out the window, over an alley on a wire rope to dry. I had gotten hold of an ironing board some months back, and . . . I was able to keep my uniforms from looking like battle fatigues.
With Tet, even office pinkies went into the battle dress of the utility uniform. Good sanitation was a must if you were to maintain good health while there. When time and location permitted, I would shower anywhere from three or four times a day.
• • •
One of the first things that happened when all the women personnel got back to MACV was to be taken along with Air Force personnel to Koepler Compound to be issued lightweight jungle utilities with combat boots. My women Marine green utilities, had four sets, were ideal. We were the only branch of the women’s services who had practical utilities and were in the process of changing over to the nonfunctional navy blue outfit.
[Most of the women Marines had been granted seven days’ leave to attend the twenty-fifth anniversary celebration of the creation of the women Marines in Okinawa. Because the Tet Offensive was in its second week, the leave was canceled.]
Lieutenant Wiley (USN) did the next best thing. She had a cake baked and decorated and published a citation. Although considering we were into our second week of Tet, everyone appeared fairly fresh and enjoying this special occasion. The male Marines went out of their way to ensure that we had our celebration, no matter what. They were fantastic.
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