RivRon 13

 

By Larry J. Kennedy

(tango13@cablespeed.com)

 

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Chapter 1

 

A Lesson In Physics

 

 

 

 

          For the most part, my life in the third dimension is pretty normal but occasionally, when properly stimulated, I find myself roaring through the universe trapped in an inescapable time warp. I am eventually deposited in an entirely different millennium for a short, intense period of time. Some folks would call this a flashback. I call it a ride on the Wayback machine.

          I never know when one of these crazy episodes is going to take place and if it had not happened to me personally, I would not have believed that it was even possible. Time traveling I mean, which only works for me in one direction, back into the past.

           My last trip backwards happened a few years ago and it was a really good one. It was memorable because everything about that trip seemed absolutely real and not a figment of an over active imagination.

          It all started one spring morning when I stepped outside the Lansing, Michigan Post Office, where I worked, to check out the weather. I was presented with an absolutely gorgeous day so I seized the golden opportunity to take a quick break and hunkered down in a sun filled spot between two large trucks that were backed up to a loading dock. Soon I felt the last remnants of our cold Michigan winter begin to melt from my bones.

The smell of cow manure and wet earth filled the warm atmosphere around the Post Office. The airborne perfume drifted in from across the road where agricultural students working in a Michigan State University cornfield were applying the pungent barn scrapings by the trailer load. I could hear their dung spreaders clacking in the distance. Hundreds of Canadian geese circled noisily overhead waiting for an opportunity to dine on the stinky brown feast being flung out onto the ground below.

          The crystal clear sky produced extra potent sunrays. They beat down on my face and made me do an unusual thing. I removed my shirt then lowered the front of my bib overalls to let the hot light shine on my pale winter chest.

          Ah yes, that does feel good,” I thought, and fished out a cigarette to enhance my sunbathing pleasure. As I bowed to light the smoke, sweat ran off my forehead and dripped onto my glasses. It burned into my eyes causing me to inhale sharply. The smell of tobacco, mixed with the odor of poop and fresh mud, sped into my lungs just a little faster than I expected, which made my eyes water even more. I was now fully strapped into the "Way back" unit and ready for warp speed.

          At that exact instant, the trucks on either side of me simultaneously fired up their engines with a huge roar that scared the ever-living snot out of me. My face was blasted with powerful dense clouds of black diesel exhaust. I closed my eyes against the onslaught as the big vans slammed into gear and raced off on a twisting route towards the exit. The time machine, with me on board, instantly achieved full backward escape velocity.

         

After a few year-seconds I opened my sooty eyelids and blearily made out that today's date had changed drastically. As my vision slowly cleared, I saw chocolate colored water flowing right there in front of me. I knew immediately that I was back in South Vietnam. The Mekong River was as filthy as ever and I noticed that it didn’t smell any better now than it had when I was last there over thirty years ago.

          A dirty, green, blunt nosed boat, bristling with machine guns, motored along in the current ahead. The watercraft was a United States Navy attack troop carrier, known as a Tango boat, and it sounded exactly like the two trucks that had been beside me moments before. Their R.P.M. mismatched engines throbbed with the same discordant rhythm as the riverboat that I now saw straining against the Mekong's powerful flow.

          Out beyond the Tango's foaming wake, I caught sight of a threatening movement in the tangled tree line behind her. No one aboard the stubby boat seemed to be aware of any danger and fear grabbed at my throat as I waited for the opening salvo of the Viet Cong ambush that I saw materializing.

          Suddenly, a mighty electric current surged through my body. I was instantly on my feet, stretching imaginary hands out to grasp the handles of a loaded Colt 50 caliber machine gun that magically appeared. If it moved I felt a desperate need to shoot it, like Now!

          Yeah, right, just my rotten luck. The weapon was jammed or something because I could not get it to fire and I thought I heard AK-47's rattling somewhere, increasing my alarm. I violently mashed the 50's thumb trigger while repeatedly pulling back on the operating handle.

          I saw crimson fire streak from the opposite river bank and swing in my direction. Bullets would be here soon. I could feel their relentless search for my tender flesh. “Man, oh man, this is really going to hurt,” I thought, as I braced myself for the impending impact and pain.

 

          Suddenly, everything dissolved into tiny bright sparkles out in front of me and my cosmic journey ended as quickly as it had begun. The muddy Mekong changed into a shimmering black parking lot where candy wrappers tumbled merrily along in the spring breeze. Enemy tracers turned into winking red brake lights on the bumpers of two trucks that waited to pull out onto the highway. Gunshots became noisy farm machinery across the road, and my see-through hands fell gradually to join real ones hanging at my sides. The whining nuclear fusion drive of my machine finally wound down to a low hum, then fell silent. I was fully back in the "here and now" and felt tremendous relief at the complete lack of bullet holes in my sorry behind.

          I stood, blinked and noticed that if my stupid machine gun had worked properly I would have killed a Chevy Suburban, a John Deere loader and an empty semi trailer parked out in the truck lot. If I had wasted those poor innocent vehicles, the term "Going Postal" would have taken on a new meaning, especially given my current condition. Those "Osh Kosh Bagosh" jeans, unbuttoned earlier, had somehow slid south, exposing an absolutely immoral amount of ugly paisley boxer shorts.

           Oh, well—some things just never seem to change for me. Whether I am surfing in the space-time-continuum, or struggling along in the real world, at any crucial moment I might be caught with my britches down. As I hurriedly buckled my pants back up I felt very lucky that were not entirely missing, as they were a couple of times back when I sailed on Tango boats along the mighty Mekong, with River Assault Squadron 13.

 

Oh yeah, and where is that misbegotten squid that had set up my weapon anyway? I had an extra large bone to pick with that sailor.

           

 

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Chapter 2

 

The Right Way. The Wrong Way. The Navy Way.

 

 

 

 

My very first thought, as I stood on the tarmac next to my inbound Vietnam bird, was that this place MUST be Hell, because Hell is the only location I had ever heard of that could possibly be this hot and smell this bad. I mean the foul sticky air literally grabs a person and immediately starts sucking the life out of them.

It was about nine o'clock on a cool Saigon morning when I mentally noted these pleasant facts then realized that much, much worse was yet to come. Little did I know, over all, how prophetic that notion would turn out to be. Welcome to the 'Nam sailor. The heating lamp is now lit. Sweat 'em if you got 'em.

 

A few days after my arrival I flew south, on a C-7 Caribou, to a dusty Army-Navy base along the Mekong River named Dong Tam. Then I transferred to a Tango boat for the ride out to a troop ship where River Assault Squadron 13 was based.

After arriving at RivRon 13, I was assigned to an attrition division rather than with a crew on a particular boat. If an engine man or gunner became missing for any reason, (R & R, WIA, Clap etc.), I, as a member of the attrition division, would be sent to fill in until they returned or until a permanent replacement could be assigned. This insured that I would also be highly forgettable. Here today, gone tomorrow. Who was that greasy sailor anyway?

          I was kind of hurt that I did not have a boat to really call home like most of the men in the squadron and wondered why I was selected for this wandering duty. In the intervening years since December 1968 I think I may have figured that particular mystery out.

          While being evaluated with a barrage of Navy tests, before receiving final orders to the fleet, a strange thing happened. I was required to take a standard Navy mechanical aptitude test one day and went to a classroom on Treasure Island in the San Francisco bay for the quiz. The test consisted of questions like, "If you turn this gear clockwise, which way will the ninth gear in the cluster rotate?", "If you apply hydraulic pressure to this maze of pipes will the ram advance or retract?", "Which electrical circuit must be energized to make the fourth solenoid in the group active?" Stuff like that. I whipped out answers to the one hundred questions then went on to my next classroom and test.

          The next day I was sent back to the same room and told that I had to repeat the exam. No explanations were offered so I did as instructed, answered one hundred different questions of the same type and carried on with my duties.

          I was really confused when the following day I was sent to the same classroom to take the same test over yet again. I wondered if they had lost my previous results or if I had screwed up so royally that they could make neither heads nor tails of my answers. Oh well, mine was not to reason why, so I completed another set of one hundred questions. When I passed the finished paper to the instructor I was told to sit down and wait.

          My test was scored and I was waved by the instructor, a Chief Petty Officer, to the front of the room. There were two other flag officer types standing behind him looking at me thoughtfully as I approached his desk.

          When I once again stood in front of him the Chief informed me that, “The Navy does not accept a score of one hundred percent on ANY aptitude test.”

          I did not understand how this could affect me and I shook my head quizzically as I tried to make sense of the whole situation. The instructor, seeing that I was very confused, lowered his voice a notch and said, “Look asshole, just miss one will you?” The other officer types nodded in agreement so I erased one of my multiple choice answers then picked another at random.

          They all smiled like I had just given them a new puppy and that is how I received a score of ninety nine percent on the Navy standard mechanical aptitude test.

All this proved to me that the Navy actually was stranger than science fiction. I see now that they thought I was somehow cheating on the exam and were watching me like hawks to determine if this was true. After the third test they must have been convinced of my innocence so offered the only solution at hand for them. Cheat and deliberately miss a question. Heck, I had been working on cars since I was a kid. This stuff was easy compared to fixing an automatic transmission. I found out right then that the old three way thing concerning anything remotely naval was true. There was the right way. There was the wrong way. Then there was the Navy way.

 

The next occurrence of note took place during river boat training at a heavy weapons range where all future river rats were evaluated for machine gun proficiency.

We were trucked to a shooting range on a hillside overlooking a valley that was about a quarter mile across. On the far side of the rift stood a dilapidated Army tank, several household appliances, and an old car which turned out to be our targets.

 I stood in a line of men with a link belt of 50 caliber ammo draped over my shoulder, waiting my turn to test fire. I watched the sailors ahead of me run out their ammo and noticed that the 50’s created a tremendous amount of barrel jump when fired. Hardly anybody was hitting anything as most rounds sailed way over the intended targets. I recalled an instructor relating that you had to start a four or five shot burst well under, say, a refrigerator then depend on muzzle rise to bring the slugs to bear.

The smell of burned gunpowder intoxicated me and I was excited when the time arrived for me to shoot. Adrenalin buzzed in my veins as I stood behind the weapon, flipped up the loading door, hooked up my rounds, snapped the cover shut, pulled the operating handle to chamber the first round then set my sights well below an old Sherman tank. I pressed the double thumb trigger of the weapon loosing a short burst then watched my tracers speed outward.

I was elated to see several white flash hits on the old armored wreck. YES! Straight out of the box, I was right on. This was easy and Great fun. I scored hits on a car next, then a refrigerator, then the tank again and felt a sense of disappointment, after about thirty seconds, as my ammo ran out.

Unbelievably I had lit up everything I shot at. The other swabs awaiting their turn congratulated me as well as the instructor who gave me a verbal, “Outstanding sailor.” Wow, I had no idea that I could do a thing like that. I wanted to pay somebody for more ammo and get back in line again. What a thrill. Yeah, well the color would fade from that bloom a little farther on down the line.

For my next powder smoke experience I lined up with a twenty five round belt of ammo behind a 20 millimeter cannon. This weapon was much larger than a 50 caliber. The 20 mm shells were about twice the 50’s size and each projectile was filled with explosives so that when they struck an object they would detonate into a deadly cloud of fast moving hot metal fragments. 20 mm rounds had drawbacks though. They were not bore safe, were always armed and could explode anytime the tips were hit hard enough. We were told that if a 20 mm round was dropped on its projectile point from waist high to the ground, the clumsy sailor who did so would be an immediate candidate for a new prosthetic leg or two. Most explosive projectiles would not detonate until after exiting a gun barrel where they would then be armed by ballistic spin.

A twenty five round belt of ammo shot from a gun that fires around seven hundred rounds per minute makes for about two, one second bursts. I still made the best of the brief practice blasts by getting several hits each time on the tank. I felt exhilarated. Shooting belted ammo will do that to you.

I also test fired a 30 caliber machine gun, a Mark-19 40 mm grenade launcher and handed clipped together shells up to a crew served 40 mm cannon.

I think the Navy, therefore, set me up to replace engine men or gunners in the squadron because I could do well in either role depending on where I was needed. I did not see this as a plus until well after I rotated home and was out of the Navy altogether. I was able to ride on a lot of different boats and had many unusual experiences. Ok, I don’t feel so bad about having been the odd man out anymore.

 

 

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Chapter 3

 

Baby Snake My Ass !!

 

 

 

 

Home base for the RivRon 13 attrition division was a berthing compartment aboard one of the converted LST barracks ships that were anchored in the miles wide Mekong River. I did not spend much time on any ship once I started to replace men and was usually shuttled straight from one riverboat to another. Only a few things remain in my memory about those early "In Country" times aboard the mother ship. However, what occurred just after that beginning does stand out. Way, way, out as a matter of fact.

 

From Naval records: "Rach Gia: On the Gulf of Thailand coast approximately one hundred twenty miles west of Saigon. In mid-December, 1968, River Assault Squadron 13 moved into the Gulf of Thailand to participate in the 'Sea Lord' Campaign and operation 'Silver Mace I' involving the first open sea transit of heavy riverine assault craft."

 

Here is what happened on that very first open sea transit.

 

A few weeks after I checked in, the mother ship, along with most RivRon 13 boats, weighed anchor and set off down river towards the mouth of the Mekong then out into the South China Sea.

When our convoy reached the open ocean we were met with Very rough water. Fifteen foot waves, minimum, battered us. The huge slabs of ocean rolled the larger vessels right, left, up, down, or a sickening combination of those directions.

Inside the attrition division berthing compartment, with forty other sailors, life became worse than miserable, it became downright intolerable.

The weird motions of pitch and roll had all of us new arrivals standing at the outskirts of "Barf City". Some men, who had crossed the nausea limits into "Chunky Town" proper, hung their heads over waste cans to let nature take its retching course.

When you are thinking about doing it, hear it being done, then catch the unmistakable odor of it, you soon realize that your own sympathy puke is close at hand and the next heavy roll could be the start of something big.

I quickly headed topside, out on deck, for some fresh air. Once there I beheld a world of torn up monstrous brown waves crashing and smashing everything. Still, I immediately felt a little better because even though the whole world was in motion the horizon was kind of steady. I focused on it for a short time then made my way to the leeward side of the ship bearing in mind sailor rule number one concerning the wind. Never spit, urinate or vomit into the wind. You will not like the messy results.

I could see that the riverboats were not doing well at all. They ran up and were lifted by swells of steeply inclined water. When they crested the huge rollers their propellers came free briefly then dug back into the froth which accelerated them downhill to SMASH into the bottom of the next wave. This heaved great fountains of ocean spray twenty five feet or more above their top decks. Audible ‘Booms’ traveled across the intervening water each time a blunt ended Tango boat met an incoming solid wall. I had no complaints about the coaster ride I was experiencing after seeing the conditions that those smaller vessels had to endure. The crews were filled with lots of new sailors that I had traveled to Viet Nam with. I wondered if they were enjoying this first rip roaring ride aboard their newly assigned duty stations. I bet they had all practiced Olympic Hurling by then.

We were out of the sight of land so we must have been about fifteen miles east of the coast of Vietnam out in the South China Sea. The curiosity here is that the water was still the cocoa color of the Mekong. I gained an awareness of the immense power and volume, (surpassed only by the Amazon), of this mighty river as I gazed in wonder at the all encompassing roiling, brown, silt laden water.

I stayed out on deck for a while as the sea gradually calmed to around six foot waves. This gave the boats a much needed respite from the terrible bashing and allowed their bilge pumps to lighten the badly wallowing small craft. Time also to swab a few puke covered decks, no doubt, because the troop carrying Tango boats were transporting a contingent of Vietnamese Marines who were well into the dry heaves by then, I was fairly sure. I also figured that a lot of those Marines thought, at first, that they might die in the crashing waves. Then after a few hours of riding tall, water filled "Whoop-De-Do's" wished that somebody would shoot them and put them out of their misery. I felt sorry for them.

At some point we all turned in a southerly direction, down the coast of Viet Nam which was still out of sight. In the distance ahead I saw a difference in the ocean's color. Soon the ship steamed across a very distinct line in the water. I watched fascinated as the ship went from the mud filled Mekong River into the clear light green of the China Sea, one of the most striking comparisons that I have ever seen. I looked astern as the mocha colored water receded from view. I could not take my eyes from the exact spot where the river left off and the ocean began. The powerful force of the Mekong stretching away as far as the eye could see in both directions kept me completely captivated. It was truly awesome.

Some time later, near dusk, the ship slowed then stopped to drop anchor for the night. I went to the port bow to watch as the big hook splashed into the sea. The huge chain links rattled out, chasing the anchor, for a very long time. The deafening racket this created was terrible. I thought it would never end. It must have been a very long way to the ocean floor.

Eventually the noise stopped and the world slowly spun as the ship gracefully swung its bow into the wind. The sea, by then, had calmed to a mild chop, the warm air smelled freshly salted. What a difference. Like finding yourself on the other side of the planet compared to the savage intensity of the crazy ocean world we had just passed through.

I heard the roar of diesel engines off the starboard side. I crossed the forward deck to watch the boats motor in and tie up to a long pontoon dock that had miraculously stayed attached to the side of the ship despite the raging storm. I had gained a new respect for the old World War II landing craft that our boats were created from, especially after seeing them survive the pounding that an angry ocean threw at them. The waves had cleaned them nicely though, and they glistened with reddish orange reflections from beautifully colored light thrown off as the hot tropical sun dipped into the sea. All were safely home alongside the mother ship, tucked in for the night. All was finally well. What a ride.

As the sound of the last engine faded so did I. I was still a little green around the gills, not ready for food quite yet, so I headed off to my bunk hoping that the smell of barf had cleared out of my bedroom.

 

I woke up before dawn the next day, well before the rest of the men in my compartment, dressed, then went to the mess decks for a cup of coffee. I smelled toast and finally my tender tummy said, “Feed Me!”, so I gobbled a few of the half burnt slices.

At the coffee urn, cup in hand, I awaited my turn at the tap behind another early riser named Claudie T. Gaskins. He was from Texas, had a cool pencil thin mustache, a smiling soft way of talking and was a general, all around, pleasure to be with.

As he drew his Java I recalled the last time that I had hung out with him. A few days before our trip out the mouth of the Mekong, Gaskins and I were standing at the ships rail overlooking the muddy, swirling river. It was Very hot. Gooey sweat completely soaked my blue dungaree shirt. I had not made the switch to jungle greens yet but Gaskins wore them.

Claude and I were occupied passing each other loads of manure about life in general when he stopped mid sentence to proclaim, “I can’t take this anymore Lare! I can’t stand it!”

          I looked at him anticipating a forthcoming reason concerning his sudden distress. Without another word he spread his feet a little and slid an enormous Bowie Knife from its scabbard on his belt. Claude paused a second then bared his teeth and stabbed the big blade down the front of his pants.

I was shocked. What in blazes was this man trying to do, turn himself into a soprano? Then strangely, even though the knife was in his drawers, everything in mine ran and hid.

Claude worked the monster blade from one side to the other sawing away madly, a look of absolute concentration on his face. After withdrawing the ‘Bowie’ he reached down the front of his trousers, grabbed a handful of cloth, then with a lot of bouncing and hopping pulled his now severed at the hip jockey shorts up out of his pants. The object of his misery and discontent was now in hand with no hash marks or blood to speak of either. Amazing!

Warning: Do not attempt this foolhardy act unsupervised at home kiddies. Severe loss of bowel control or accidental dismemberment may result.  Oh yeah, and one other thing, my best advise would be to not ever get in a knife fight with Gaskins. The man definitely knows how to handle a blade.

With a look of disgust that you might give a used condom, Claude flung the offending white underwear into the river where they slowly sank from sight as they twisted away in the current.

Then he went into, "Claudie's Version", of the standard male adjustment process by wagging one leg or the other while jumping, hip shaking, and tugging at his crotch. The man made some very nice moves and managed to narrowly prevent a few head, deck collisions. Females can imitate the Gaskins Dance by putting on pantyhose while bouncing one legged on a beach ball.

After things became aligned and positioned properly a satisfied grin came over Claude's features. He closed his eyes, smiled in obvious ecstasy and said, “My Gawd Lare, that shore feels a Hell'va lot better!”

I could not have agreed more. Haven’t you heard Mr. G? Freedom IS the word. I was already sans skivvies having given them up days before. It sure did feel better. It was too flaming hot to wear them anyway.

In a nutshell, that was my man Gaskins. He was a great sailor.

 

Back at the coffee spigot, Claude and I decided to take our cups of stiff Navy brew out to the bow where we planned to watch the sun arise from the ocean. This was an event I had never witnessed but much anticipated.

Rosy dawn greeted us above, over smooth, mirror calm seas below as we wandered forward, over to the port side, next to the giant links of the anchor chain.

Once there Claude inserted, what had to be, a heaping tablespoon of Copenhagen snuff, then carefully worked it into a comfortable location.

I lit a Marlboro. I had tried a teeny tiny pinch from his evil little tin one time and wound up with the worst case of "I-Wanna-Die" hiccups ever recorded. I could only imagine what a quarter of a can would do.

With everything now properly adjusted we looked off the port side and were able to see down along the length of the chain to where the murky depths finally hid the rest. It was serenely gorgeous with the sky getting pinker, brighter on one side, the anchor chain gently curving way down into the emerald green water on the other. We passed some quiet moments lost in our own thoughts, not needing to speak. Peace and beauty will hush a person right up.

I was dividing my time between the sun-up show and tracing the length of the majestic, disappearing links when something caught my eye way on down the chain.

At the very end of the iron tether, hundreds of feet under water, I detected movement, a very strange, peculiar movement. There it was again. Something was definitely moving down there at the edge of my vision.

"What in the world could this be?”  I thought to myself.

I brought the curiosity to Gaskins’ attention by pointing and murmuring, “What in heck is that Claude?”

We both leaned out over the rail, intently looked down the scope of the chain, then he Texas drawled, “Y'all got me bah the ass-air Lare. Neva seen anything lie-cat before.”

We were fascinated at this point, unable to take our gaze from the object. It appeared to be rising and was wound round and round the massive chain. Slowly, very slowly it cork screwed up from the depths.

For the life of me I could not figure out what I was seeing, but as it came closer I did make out that it was wrapped around the chain about six or seven times. It kind of looked like a thin worm or a baby snake maybe.

Gradually, as the creature dizzily rose, I could see that it did appear to be a baby snake. I could not really be certain though, because it was still way below the bottom of the ship.

Soon, Claude and I were both riveted to this revolving wonder of the deep. The closer it came to us the farther our eyes widened and the lower our jaws dropped. Up it swam, getting larger, ever larger, while it did relentless rising laps around the chain.

As it neared the surface, a few yards below, my heart froze and my already shallow breathing stopped entirely. I tried to swallow but could not because of my open gaping mouth. Hot coffee poured down my arm, ran off my elbow onto my pants and shoes from the forgotten askew cup in my hand. I never felt a thing.

The beast finally screwed its way to the surface where it arose, bathed in brilliant cascades of sunrise colored ocean spray, into the air above.

 

BABY SNAKE MY ASS!

 

This thing was HUGE! Its massive head was bigger than the side of a small bungalow and I don't think it would have fit into the bed of a Ford pickup truck. I wondered if the ship's anchor had somehow upset the monster and my blood ran ice cold. I wondered if the monster would slither up the chain onto the ship and my blood turned ice colder. "Oh Man!" I thought, "What if it's pissed off or hungry... or pissed off AND hungry?"

I nearly added to my coffee stain with giddy relief when it swam towards the stern, uncoiling from the chain as it went, until between thirty or forty feet of its glistening, greenish bronze body stretched out in the water, undulating like some Loch Ness monster. It was actually hard to tell exactly how long it really was because some of it dipped into the water while some of it rose out. If straightened completely the enormous serpent could have been even longer, probably was. At its widest the body section appeared to be between three and four feet across, much wider than a fifty five gallon drum and I am not completely certain, due to my visual overload at the time, but I thought the colossal snake had a faint pattern on its skin.

Nessie’s head dove under, with a splash, just beyond the stern of the ship, came up swimming back towards us and passed its own tail which was still going the other way.

Its tongue shot out like a forked red carpet runner.

Holy Shish-Kabob! The thing could taste us in the air. When the massive ocean asp did its tongue thing again "Creepy Crawlies" shivered up and down my spine.

Then I noticed the eyes. They looked like two of those large, shiny, colored globes, on pedestals that people put in their yards, only darker and bigger.

My mind flashed, "If we can see IT - Then IT can see us", and . . . ."

Man Oh man! … The thing was coming and looking straight back at us!

It did not matter. I could not have moved a muscle anyway. I was part of the deck. Mesmerized, transfixed, enthralled, you name it. The oversized snake could have eaten me for breakfast. Its head was even bigger when viewed from this oncoming angle. The mouth looked like it could easily swallow a Shetland pony, saddle, rider, and all.

Gaskins did not even bother pulling out his scrawny little Bowie knife. I was relieved that he didn't as matter of fact. The best he could have possibly done was to stab 'Nessie' in the throat and madden it even more as he passed down its massive gullet on his way for a dip in reptile gastric juice. Of course I would have been gullet sliding and acid swimming right along with Claude because I do not think the snake would have had any problem swallowing two grown human beings at once. My secret abiding all time biggest fear of being eaten by a shark, made a super smooth transition into being swallowed by a pissed off snake.

When ‘Nessie’ reached the anchor chain again, directly below us, it dove UNDER, Thank you, Thank you, wrapped its huge body around the chain links and cork screw swam its way back down into the ocean depths from whence it came. Claude and I watched quietly, reverently even, as the giant sea serpent turned back into a baby snake, then into a tiny worm, then into nothing.

 

The world was deathly silent as Claude and I slowly swiveled our own puny little human heads until our eyes absolutely LOCKED. We just stood there, looked at each other, and blinked. I don’t know for how long. We just blinked.

Gaskins came to his senses first and without looking away he said in a slow, low, odd voice, “You know Lare... they will Never.. (Ever).. Believe us.”

Texas talk, straight to the heart of a matter. He was absolutely right of course. Not any sailor on ALL the oceans, that had not been there, would EVER believe a story like this. Not in a million years. We had obviously stumbled into a Japanese, Godzilla type flick or Alan Funt would soon pop out doing his Candid Camera bit, then everybody would have a big laugh and a hearty round of applause for the stupid, gullible, sailor with the large, brown, coffee stain down the leg of his dungarees.

"This is not for real," I thought to myself, "This entire ridiculous sea serpent rising out of the ocean thing could NOT have happened."

 

But I'll be dipped in baby snake sauce, it really did.

 

There were three questions that Gaskins and I discussed as we left the bow of the ship.

 

First: What kind of a weird ass place was this anyway?

 

Second: Did we have to fight snakes like THAT as well as the Viet Cong? If so, Claude would have to buy an even bigger knife.

 

And finally: What in hell did the Navy put in their coffee anyway... L.S.D?

 

 

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Chapter 4

 

Rach Gia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shortly after my episode with the big snake I was assigned a boat, Tango-131-13, to replace an engine man who had went on R&R. It was a newer type boat with an upper helicopter landing pad just barely big enough for a single Huey chopper to land on.

          I packed a ditty bag with some essentials, Marlboros, ‘church key’, P-38 can opener, toilet paper, olive drab boxer shorts, and split the attrition division compartment in a hurry. Finally there was something for me to do besides stand around with a digit up my bum.

          I double timed over to Tango 13 and got an adrenalin zing when I caught sight of her dingy green hull. This was it. I could feel my head sliding into the tiger's mouth and I looked forward to it. That was totally backwards thinking, I know, but I could not help it. The fear of death had already been compressed into a tiny little ball in the back of my mind which I thereafter ignored. My newly acquired machine guns would help me tame any stray fears that fell short of that.

          When I reported aboard T-13 the crew did not take much notice of me. I was just another warm body to fill out the number needed before a mission. I was promptly ignored. They probably thought I knew what I was doing. Yeah, right, this was all new to me so I decided to start by firing up the diesels, as they were my highest concern.

The engines checked out good after a test warm up. The crankcase oil looked clean and the level was fine in both power plants. The noisy beasts maintained a decent temperature while in operation. The shaft packing glands were not leaking. The fuel tanks had no water in them. The level of the bilges was kind of high however, which meant that the boat was slightly down at the stern. There was nothing I could do about that right then because we were moving out immediately.

          We cast off our lines from the mother ship then motored toward a village, on the southern coast of Vietnam, named Rach Gia (rock jaw). After a short ride, we came to a place that was high banked by rice paddy dikes and lined with various tropical looking trees. There we beached Tango 13, next to some sister boats, then shut down to wait for who knew how long.

          This was my first encounter, close up, with the jungle. I was like a sponge absorbing everything, soaking it all up. I was finally seeing what the ‘Nam’ was all about and Green, Lots of Green was the predominant color.

          I decided to go topside, to the helicopter landing pad, so that I could absorb even better. I soon stood on the tiny flight deck gazing out over the lush exotic landscape.

          My hunter-gather gene kicked in and I thought, "Well, well, will wonders never cease. Here are hundreds of bananas and coconuts actually growing outside, free for the picking." The only things that were growing outside in my Michigan hometown right about now were icicles and snowdrifts. I momentarily missed them.

          With that cool happy thought in mind I settled atop the coxswain’s flat with a Coca Cola and a can of fruit cocktail in order to create a sugar buzz that might enhance all the absorbing that I was about to do.

Groups of barefoot children gathered and lined the earthen mound fifteen yards off our bow calling, “You Numba One G.I., You Numba One.” In Pidgin English, taught by soldiers, this meant you were the best, top notch. However, if a native sneered and said, “You Numba Ten.”, this meant that you were lower than pimples on a snake's belly, spawned from Hell. There was no middle ground there at all.

          A sailor on one of the boats carried a case of C-Rations to his landing pad and started throwing the meals one can at a time to the kids. This excited them greatly and the raucous group fought over each lofted donation. A youngster would catch a food container, midair, then immediately take flight chased by a knot of other little vandals trying to rob him. It was kind of like the way a flock of seagulls act when fed saltines. No mercy.

          In no time there were quite a few men on different boats tossing food to now more than thirty or so kids. Flights of outgoing cans sailed toward the beach in a near continuous barrage. The native youngsters went bonkers. Dinner was being air dropped by the Navy. I saw one swab try to arc in an entire meal set. The thin cardboard box blew apart in mid air and sprayed its contents over the children shotgun style. The food frenzy heightened when this happened.

          One cute little guy I noticed, was never in the right place at the right time. He ran back and forth along the dike just missing nearly every opportunity to claim a prize. When he managed to get his hands on a can he was always stripped of his booty by the larger kids.

          Sailors will always root for the underdog. As the men became aware of Little Guy’s situation they tried, specifically, to toss him a goodie but survival of the fittest doomed their every effort. Little Guy was robbed of them all.

The men, frustrated, stopped throwing and put their heads together. They came up with a plan. Here’s how it went.

One sailor made eye contact and kept pointing from a can of Ham and Lima Beans in his hand to our Little Guy.

Three or four other swabs filled their hands with cans then started firing them way to the left of the crowd.

The 'Ham and Lima' sailor, seeing the gang fall for the diversion, lobbed a high, fat, easy, under hander toward our Little Guy.

Little Guy stood like an outfielder, hands outstretched, fingers splayed, intent on the incoming chow. Open mouthed, wide eyed concentration etched his small round face.

Every single man watching that day, cringed, winced, and knew Exactly how Little Guy felt when he lost the C-rats missile in the sun then took the revolving bean can, right, smack, in the forehead, directly between the eyes. Little Guy went down like he had been shot. Ouch! We had all been popped like that with a baseball when we were his age. We remembered. I wish the 'Ham and Lima' sailor had chosen a box of Chiclets instead.

We all started to rush to Little Guy’s aid but before we could do so a couple of kids ran over to him, stole his beans, stood him up and wobbled him off into the jungle with them. Man, I hoped he was ok.

The boat crews continued to toss treats but now they sent them in low so the kids would have to chase them as they rolled down the side of the dike. This gave the children more of a work out and avoided another head-bean mishap.

Later on some teenaged kids showed up carrying loaves of freshly baked French bread. Though the smell was absolutely delicious, I cannot say why I did not buy a loaf like some sailors did. I guess that I recalled an instructor back in training telling us not to eat anything the natives offered. He'd said something about microbes that our systems were not used to. Maybe that held me back. The bread sure smelled good however and I was seriously tempted.

I sat there absorbing stuff until the setting sun went nuts. It silhouetted the coconut palms and banana trees with sharp yellow rays shot from a ruby red disk. My Dad was right when he had advised me to take note of the beautiful things in life where ever I found them. A wise man my father. I missed him.

The next morning we were greeted with an in coming flight of Med Evac choppers. The Hueys landed on various Tango flight decks and lifted off with very sick sailors. It was the lousy French bread that had been probably made with dung infested Mekong River water that laid the men low. Some seriously rotten microbes had infected the sick men's guts. I wondered if the bread had been baked by nasty, short little butt holes dressed in black pajamas.

Thereafter I ate a total of, *One*, non military provided meal in my entire tour of duty. I consumed that at the airport restaurant the day before I left Vietnam. That meal did not turn out so hot either. Not near as bad as V.C. microbes though.

 

Christmas 1968 arrived while we marked time outside of Rach Gia along the dike. For Christmas dinner I had C-Rations and a Coke while I listened to Bob Hope and Ann Margaret on the Armed Forces radio station entertaining troops back at Dong Tam. What a Bummer! To my everlasting regret I had missed Ann Margaret. Not to mention Bob Hope who had entertained U.S. soldiers all over the world. I greatly admired Mr. Hope because he gave of himself at very crucial times when a grunt sure needed a laugh and a look at a pretty girl.

My Christmas C-Rat’s sucked too. They reminded me of glorified dog food, except for the canned peaches and pound cake that I ate for desert. They were a delightful taste bud oasis in a desert of really bad chow.

Other than that not much worth describing happened during the next hot week as we awaited our time to do something, anything.

 

On News Years Eve, at the far edge of dusk, all the boats started their engines, formed up in a long column then headed into the dark mouth of a one hundred foot wide canal that flowed from an even darker jungle. The waterway appeared pitch black, totally without light.

I shuddered. I got the same feeling from the dark entrance that had come over me as a child while lying bug eyed atop the monster ridden area under my bed. “Something evil lives in there.” I thought, as we approached the spooky canal mouth.

The order came from our boat captain to "Lock and Load." With pleasure I strapped on a helmet then quickly obeyed, loading all six machine guns in just a few minutes. Then I slid on a flak jacket for good measure.

I smelled wood smoke mixed with something sweet, like flowers, as we entered, engines roaring, into the dark canal. Diesel exhaust soon drove that pleasant scent away when the boats bunched up, as they were supposed to, for safety and for a more concentrated field of fire.

There was a very dim red light coming from inside one of the rear compartments behind me that provided just enough illumination to safely move about our well deck.

I stood back in the shadows scanning side to side out past the machine guns trying to find any visual input. I saw only velvety, dense, blackness as Tango 13 plowed along into the night.

Every once in a while during the next hour the radioman, Homer, stuck his head out into the weak red glow, looked around, then disappeared to monitor his softly chattering radio again. Other than that I was wide eyed and alone.

All of a sudden there was an intense flash of light from astern that starkly lit the tree line fifty feet away on the port side. A booming explosion immediately followed.

In the next instant, amid more bright lights and teeth rattling booms, twinkling flashes sent occasional green or red tracers toward us. Those were AK-47’s I found out later.

Within seconds the riverboats opened up with all weapons, which included 105 mm howitzers, 40 mm grenade launching machine guns, 20 mm aircraft cannons, 50 caliber machine guns and 30 caliber machine guns. All together dozens of jungle shredding guns, firing an ungodly number of rounds per minute, began to pulverize the beach along a one hundred yard swath that moved forward at about five miles per hour.

Wow! A dizzying combination of strobe like muzzle flashes, tracers and deafening noises predominated my senses. I stood there dumbstruck, in awe, lost in the powerful show.

Homer stuck his head out and hollered, “Shoot, man shoot!”

Before he finished the sentence I jumped up to the port 50, flicked the safety off, and started chewing up the tree line through the thickening smoke from all the weapons.

You were supposed to fire short bursts in order to keep the gun barrel from burning up. I held the thumb trigger down causing the 50 to roar nonstop through a one hundred round belt.

I couldn’t see if I was hitting anything or not so it became my immediate obsession to put a bullet next to every air molecule along the beach. I didn’t want a human being to be able to raise a finger without having it blown off. That was also the Last time that anyone Ever had to Tell me to start shooting. I regret that I even had to be told once. I was a cherry sailor once but not any more. My life had changed.

When the 50 ran dry I moved to the right a few feet and got busy sending a two hundred fifty round belt from the middle port 30 into the jungle, then I heard Homer hollering, “Cease Fire!”, somewhere behind me. I was barely conscious of him because I was totally absorbed, focused you might say, on improving my bullet to molecule ratio. My 30 fell silent while a few guns along the column continued firing, baking off their remaining ammo most likely. A very hot machine gun will do that.

Breathing erratically I hastily reloaded my weapons. I recharged the port 50 last with two, one hundred round cans of ammo linked together. I had exhausted my 50 ammo Way too soon. I didn’t care for that. I also stood directly behind the weapon. I wanted it to be close at hand from now on. No more wasted seconds. A wasted second is plenty of time to kill you dead.

We motored onward like this for about forty five minutes when the port side again erupted in gunfire. I rapped out two hundred rounds almost nonstop with the 50 after the first enemy muzzle flash. The barrel on the weapon began smoking and glowed dull cherry red. I had five spare 50 barrels and could care less whether I burned this one up or not. If the slugs started to tumble after they left the shot out rifling, so much the better, I thought. The only thing that mattered was the bullet to molecule count as I hastily switched again to the middle 30 caliber.

I was once more working tracers into the tree line when I felt the boat thump hard on something then hesitate. Our forward momentum dwindled and the diesels started to scream as Tango 13, with all hands, coasted into "Do-Do City." The propulsion was out. We were dead in the water.

I ran to the engine room, stuck my head in the hatch and listened while the motors wailed at top rpm’s producing an incredible noise. The transmissions slammed from forward to reverse a couple of times then the engines shut down completely. The room went silent. I ran forward back into the gunfire.

Once there I saw that we were drifting sideways across the canal, blocking it, halting the column. Our boat, along with all the boats behind, became sitting ducks, just like the little ducks in a carnival shooting gallery, only we were not moving.

Incoming, portside fire intensified dramatically. I heard the "Fwhooosh" of several enemy B-40 rocket propelled grenades. I felt the ‘Boom’ that followed as they blew up against some unlucky boat and I knew that it was only a matter of time until the enemy put something explosive into Tango 13.

Things were getting just a little too hairy for me right now. I was at a total loss for a solution to our nightmare. What is a Tango engine man supposed to do when his engines are useless? Paddle the 76 ton, iron, slug of a boat?

Homer appeared at my side hollering something about our propellers being gone. "Well, No (kidding) Sherlock!!" I hollered back. Like he was telling me something I didn't already know. Homer then said that the boat behind us would come along our starboard side, tie up length wise and tow us out of there, which sounded like a fantastic idea to me. We had all practiced this life saving maneuver during our boat training.

Just as he finished his shouted information we were rammed heavily on the starboard bow by the boat behind and