My War - Installment 24

In other times in other wars many of these would have been left for dead by their comrades. Helicopters were one of the reasons for the decrease in the mortality rate, also advances in medical care. It made me proud in a small way. Within a very short time men could be evacuated to a good medical facility.

There were gut wounds, which are often some of the most painful and critical - these abdominal wounds were closest to medical help, if the wounds were not too serious.

It was strange in a way, all the blood and suffering. Flying I was party to it, but hardly ever heard the cries of pain and anguish as a bullet struck home or as a grenade exploded sending hundreds of tiny projectiles at their prey. The noise from the helicopter insulated us in a way, almost like watching a silent movie - you can't get as involved in a silent movie, that is, unless it is really graphic and war certainly was. We were not as insulated as fighter or bomber pilots, who either dropped bombs from 40,000 feet or made high speed bombing or strafing runs at targets. We were, even in the Lift section, far more closely involved. We could watch a silent scream from either our men or the enemy.

I finally tore myself away from that gruesome scene. The feeling was similar to that feeling I get when I see a blind person or someone malformed. You want to stare and watch them, or observe them, but you don't want to be watched watching them and you do not want them to see you watching them. I came across a nurse that some how seemed to be not busy and asked for directions to go to patient information. With out asking she told me that they had really had a run on wounded that day and the day before, from all over II Corps.

I consciously feasted on her beauty as she told me where to go for patient information. She was the most gorgeous piece of woman flesh I had seen in ages. I was speechless as I gazed on her loveliness. I would have liked to ask her out or something, but I remained silent as a stone. I'd have given my left foot for a date with her. I did manage one garbled, "Thank you very much", and then in an embarrassed stupor, marched quickly down the hallway, out of her life and up to patient information.

At patient information I asked a Spec IV to check on a First Lieutenant Thomas, from Alpha Troop 1/9 Cav, 1st Air Cav and related that I had been ordered to acquire some security information from him.

After some few minutes of riffling in the files he told me that First Lieutenant Thomas had been evacuated that morning and was presently in route to Japan. No personal effects of the type that I had mentioned were noted in the record. All that I would be able to report would be what I had just heard. Somewhere, some way, we would have to come up with the S.O.I. or account for it. Either that, or change all the information it contained, which was considerable. All of the units call signs for II Corps, all radio frequencies and defensive artillery concentrations.

I thanked the Spec IV then left the hospital by the same route that I had entered. This part of my mission had been a fiasco; maybe the rest of the day could be salvaged.

Outside of the hospital I gazed eastward and looked at the position of the mid-morning sun. I decided that I could put my disappointment of the morning behind me and enjoy at least some of the day that lay ahead. None of the military base area interested me. I didn't have enough money to enjoy going to the PX. I could see that same kind of stuff in the states. I turned and headed for the city. The only thing on the bases that interested me at all, besides the PX, was the thought of some lovely round eyed women - which I had neither the time nor money to entertain, even if I found a girl that was interested. I strolled through the gates of the hospital compound and was saluted by the guards, as I passed. I returned the salutes then steered for the throngs of Vietnamese in the streets ahead of me. "I may not ever get another chance to mingle with the natives of another country again, you just don't know", I said to myself.

As I walked along I prepared myself for any eventuality. I moved my wallet, with what little money I had left, from my back left pocket to my right front pocket so that I would be more aware of its position. "Darn, I wished they'd get my pay straightened out." I had not received a nickel of pay since being "in country". I removed my new watch and put it in my other front pocket. I did not want my Saigon experience to be repeated. I was ready. I roamed the streets for hours watching, wishing I had my camera with me. There were MPs everywhere. All dressed in their nice starched fatigues for fighting the war of discipline among the denizens of supply, logistics, and combat. They kept order among the thousands that were involved in the logistics of war and the paper pushers there in that secure city. MPs were not highly thought of among front line troops. It almost seemed that they would lay in wait to harass combat seasoned men that came into towns to enjoy themselves and forget the war for a little while.

I was not sure how much of what I had heard was true, but there sure were a lot of MPs around and a few seemed to be eyeing me rather suspiciously as I shuffled along among the Slopes.

"Hey, what are you doing there,” Yelled one MP, a Spec-5.

"Must not be talking to me, enlisted men don't talk like that to officers;” I said to myself and continued to stroll along.

"HEY, YOU!" reverberated along the street.

"I looked around and saw no other American in sight. This insubordinate fart-head must be yelling at me." I turned and faced them and pointed to myself. There was a definite note of surprise on their faces as their eyes scanned my rather tacky fatigues and came to rest on my collar and the camouflage rank patch that was there. There were a few moments of uncomfortable fidgeting as I approached them and pretended to note their unit insignia and their names.

"Sorry, Sir, but....."

I turned and moved off into the crowd again. Maybe these guys had nothing better to do than to go around hassling and yelling at people for nothing. They obviously didn’t like the way I looked in my old, left over from the Korean War fatigues. I wished that I could have sent those two turds to the front lines for a few days. Then maybe they would have some understanding and respect. We all have a tendency to think of ourselves and our jobs as being more important than anyone or anybody else's job, but these MPs certainly had an inflated opinion of their own worth in my mind.

I wandered about until 1500 hours and then thought I had better head for the Bar and Grill that Ramirez had stopped at and suggested that we meet there earlier. It took me a little while to get my bearings and locate the streets that I thought would take me where I wanted to go. Finally after twenty-five minutes of brisk walking, fortunately no MPs hassled me, I came up to the previously chosen establishment.

I went inside into a dimly lit room that was spotlessly clean and orderly. The room was decorated in an oriental motif, no surprise, with paper lanterns, water color paintings, fans, and carvings of dragons. Tables were placed at intervals, neatly table clothed and ready for customers. In the far right side of the room, toward the rear of the building, there was a small bar with five high stools. Behind the bar was the sweetest looking girl or woman that I had seen since I left the hospital that morning. She looked about - well maybe - anywhere from sixteen to nineteen years old, I couldn't tell. I had never seen...Well maybe not ever...When a woman is down right beautiful, race is superfluous and I admire their beauty. I had always found oriental women intriguing, along with their legendary devotion to their men. Vietnamese woman have always been considered some of the most beautiful women in the world.

The room was empty except for the girl and me. Soft, lilting oriental music hung in the quiet atmosphere of the room, not the usual raucous booming crap that was common in most GI bars, like the ones in An Khe. I moved over to the teak wood bar and sat down on one of the cushioned stools. I hadn't eaten since early that morning so I decided to have something to eat while I waited for Ramirez and the others to arrive. I could also feast my eyes on a gorgeous oriental woman, while passing the time.

I ordered a sandwich and a coke from a surprisingly American menu, obviously taking advantage of the foreign military presence in the area. The girl disappeared through a curtain of colored beads which covered a doorway behind the bar. I could here her conversing with another woman in Vietnamese; she then reappeared and served me my coke. We talked quietly about the weather and what ever else I could think of which wasn't much. I politely asked her questions about herself and listened, with fascination, as she answered me in her singsongy broken English. I found the dim light, the atmosphere of the room and her, very intoxicating and refreshing. "Why couldn't I be here on holiday instead of fighting in a war," I said to myself.

She slipped from the room to retrieve my sandwich from Mama-san in the kitchen. Returning she placed the sandwich before me on the bar. As I was eating Ramirez and the other two men entered the building and joined me at the bar.

Ramirez, a rather odd looking little man with short cropped black hair and bulgy eyes, immediately started talking to the girl, Thu Van (Autumn Cloud) and then left the room with her by way of a staircase that I hadn't noticed before. I looked at the other two men; they returned my glance with the same puzzled look on their faces and the same surprise that I had registered.

I finished my sandwich and coke before Ramirez and the girl returned. I had been there for a total of about forty minutes by that time. Ramirez nervously asked me if he could buy me a drink. "Strange," I thought!

"Sure, that would be great."

I wasn't much of a drinker, but I didn't want to antagonize the little guy. I ordered a Canadian Club and Seven Up and thanked him. I apologized that I would not be able to return the favor more than once, since I was short on funds. He shrugged and stared at Thu Van.

Thu Van had been relatively quiet the whole time I had been there, perhaps it could better be described as shy. She had conversed with me before the others had returned, but since their return she had said nothing to me.

We all sat silently and drank. As soon as I had finished my C.C. and Seven another replaced it on the bar in front of me.

"Thanks," I said to no one in particular and began to drink it, again in silence. This pattern continued for some two hours with a drink appearing just as soon as I was about to finish the one I was drinking.

Ramirez was loosening up or becoming drunk, one or the other. Which? I wasn't too sure. He started talking to me or the others or maybe to all of us, in a rather slurred manner. His normally bulgy eyes seemed to protrude even further, looking as if they would pop out on the bar at any moment, as he talked about everything and nothing.
"Thooose fah-art-headed Ball-tee-mooore Orr-ee-oools beat. Lost Ann-gaa-less....rot'n coock-socks...iiiss no-t faairrr," he mumbled.

The others spoke with equal clarity. I was glad that they didn't start to talk about football, I was not too sure that I would be able to fake much of a conversation. I hadn't been following sports very much since entering the military and flight school.

I seemed to be holding my own, how or why I'm not sure, maybe it was beginners luck so to speak, or maybe subconsciously I didn't want to look like a babbling fool in front of the enlisted men, or perhaps Thu Van was not making mine as strong.

Ramirez never brought up the subject of Thu Van, which I felt was the reason for his bizarre drinking binge. Somebody would probably fill me in sooner-or-later.

Finally, it must have been around 1730 hours or later, Ramirez decided to give it up and head back to LZ Hammond. Boy was I glad!

"Good bye, Thu Van," I said

"Gooda byee, Diwee."

The three of us bid farewell, except for Ramirez. We went out to the truck, Ramirez stayed behind. I again assumed my position on the passenger side of the truck's cab, while the others drunkenly climbed in back and sprawled on the bed of the truck. There were a few Vietnamese by the truck, probably guards hired by Ramirez; at this point in time I didn't care. I could only guess what was going on inside while we waited.
Ramirez came out, turned and waved, flipped the Vietnamese guards some money and drunkenly climbed behind the steering wheel. He looked a bit shaky. He started the engine, then bent over the wheel awkwardly to look back toward the open door of the Bar and Grill. He waved one last time and then jerked the vehicle into motion. I wasn't sure, from the way he was using the clutch, that his brain was in synch with his legs. We rolled crazily along the streets and alleys of Qui Nhon, moving, I hoped, in the right direction.

The light of day was dwindling into a beautiful Vietnamese sunset as we sped shakily along the road between Qui Nhon and Phu Cat. I prayed to myself that we would make it back before dark. Binh Dinh Province was no place for a round eye to be caught traveling after dark, especially by land.

I had probably inadvertently insulted Ramirez’s ego by telling him: "If you get tired and need some relief, I can drive for a while." He just grunted fuzzy eyed and kept going. So I decided to take a nap and forget it all. I leaned over on the door and partially hung my head out of the window. The combination of leaning, bouncing, and booze, did a job on me. I woke feeling half sick then puked my guts out of the window. I kept my head outside of the truck as I retched, heaving load after load out onto the road. Fortunately, with Ramirez and the others drunk my condition went unnoticed, especially since my head had already been partially out the window, I hoped that it looked as if I had just turned my head some. I doubted that anyone was even aware. I felt better after my second barf. I drunkenly wiped my mouth on my sleeve. I sat up trying to look normal and I looked around the countryside trying to decide how far we had come. I asked Ramirez if he was OK. He said he was; that was good enough for me. I could have really cared less at that point in time. I swore as many do, never to let it happen again. I had kept face though by hiding my vomiting and not being seen by the others.

I think it was late when we arrived back at LZ Hammond. I went straight to my hootch, bypassing any food or the thought of it and went straight to sleep.