Stories of Good Times and good things in Vietnam were really not so rare. I enjoyed the sitting around and the talking with others in my squad, the brotherhood among us as we talked of the funny things that happened in the bush, and the funnier things that happened to us on the lines. There was always something of a Good Story about Vietnam to be had by all; all we had to do was to think of it.

My Good Story had a rough beginning, but stay with me on this one.

It was raining! It was just before Christmas, and it had been raining since the day before.

When I say raining, I mean it was very seriously raining, and it was continuously raining since the day before! The rain came down like a waterfall. There was no letup in the weather. It just kept coming down, and coming down, and coming down, and I was starting to feel very cold all over, and I started to ache in every muscle of my body. Just to scratch my head was a chore, and to be a Marine was impossible.

Corporal Barone and the remainder of his Fire Team had to go on an overnight patrol. So, while he and his men were gone Arp and I went to their positions to fill in while they were on patrol.

That night I came down with some very violent chills, and I was burning up with fever. It got so bad that Arp had gotten on the hardwire and he had called the Corpsman over to the position.

Doc gave me some aspirins (APCs), and he said it looked like I had a case of Dysentery or something. He said he was surprised that the whole damned unit wasn’t down with it, considering where we had been over the last month or so, and the weather we were in.

“We’re going to have to take you down off of the mountain in the morning. I am pretty sure we can’t do it now!”

“Arp!" He said, "I'd keep him out of the rain overnight, and try to keep him warm and dry. If his fever gets much worst, we are going to have to find a way to get him out of here. I’ll get my stuff and move in with you guys tonight. I’ll take his guard watch for tonight’s watch, besides, he wouldn’t be of any use to us tonight. He may start shooting at ghosts and goblins, and we can’t have that!" He laughed and he went for his belongings.

Arp looked at me and said, "You’re pretty sick there partner. Aren’t you?" This he said with his Tennessee drawl, and I laughed a little and I shivered some more, but I could not think of a damned funny thing to say back to an observation such as that.

On Friday, I fought to stay with my unit, even though I was very sick, but I woke up early, and I still felt terrible. I tried cutting down brush in front of the positions, but I was very dizzy and I knelt down out by the wire. I sat down for a while, and I hoped for the best. We were on alert, and we were supposed to go to the LZ, and I did not want my unit to go out to the field without me, but, by the afternoon, we found we were not going anywhere. So I asked Doc Thornton (We called him Thunder), what I should do?

Doc looked at me and he said, "The first thing you should do is to call me Thunder. That is my nickname. You have been with us long enough to call me that! Here is what I want you to do. I want you to go down to Battalion Med, and to check into the Med Unit. This is not a request Carey, this is a medical order from the dully authorized medical personnel in this unit. Being your Corpsman, I am he, and you will abide by my orders."

“Aye, Aye Doc!" I said to Thunder with a wry smile, and I did as I was told.

I walked down the hill that morning, stopping to rest on some occasions as I walked, and other times to keep from walking with a load in my trouser. I was really very weak. My Rifle felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Of course, the rain was still coming down quite heavy, and the path was as muddy as could be, and it was slippery all the way down.

When I finally got to the brook that we washed our clothes in, I saw it had become a small river running very fast off of the mountain. I made it across with the help of a rope we had put across it to help us during these times of heavy rain. Even if I had soiled my trousers, it would have surely been cleaned out just crossing this thing and hanging on to the rope as the water ran off the mountain.

Even before I got into the Battalion area, I could see the Med Tent. It was larger than the other tents, and it had the white flag with the big Red Cross on top of it.

I walked into the front tent flap of Med, and a Corpsman at the desk told me to sign into the log, and to have a seat. He asked, "Do you feel sick to your stomach at this time? If so, take it outside the tent. I am the one that will have to keep this place clean."

I told him I was fine for the time being..

About an hour later, the doctor finally got to see me. This was after the Corpsman had already taken my temperature and my blood pressure, and my heartbeat. He had recorded these things on a piece of paper, and placed them in my ‘medical jacket.’

The Doctor looked at my chart, and said, "I see you are not the type that goes to the doctor unless you are ordered to do so. You don’t like doctors or something, PFC Carey?"

“No Sir! It is not that! I don’t like hospitals, and doctors work there!"

Laughing, he said, "Well you are going to be here for at least two days, Marine! The Corpsman will take you to your ward. You are not to go back to your unit I release you to do so! With the exception of an attack on this area, you will remain in this ward, and you will stay away from other Marines, until you are released. Understood?"

Aye, Aye Sir!

Three days later, I was still there!

There was not much chance to get any sleep in the Battalion Med. I was always running to the ‘head’, and I was either throwing up or I was crapping out to where it really hurt to do either any longer. During the time there, it still never stopped raining. That was the only reason why I was glad to be there. It was nice to be warm and to be somewhat dry, if only for a short time, even if I was as sick as a dog!

In the ward, there was a little Vietnamese boy. He was about the same size as my brother Kevin was at the age of six. He had bad 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns on his body, mostly on his shoulder and his arm. The Corpsman told me his name was Ho Van Yit, or something like that, and he had been supposedly injured when he was playing with fire at his home in the village of Quaing Tri, but the Corpsman believed that the boy’s mother burnt the boy because he was being bad that day.

The Corpsman said his father brought him to the Community Medical Team for treatment of the burns. The Medical team brought him here to be taken care of. The boy’s father comes to visit him once every three days. Sometimes he brings one of his sisters, or brothers to visit with him. The mother never comes!

The first day there in the hospital ward, I didn’t hear a word out of the boy. The second day, we talked. Maybe we did not speak in a language, he spoke no English, and I spoke no Vietnamese, but we spoke as I fixed one of the toys that a Marine had gotten for him.

It was a metal, or tin, toy bear. You know the type if you are as old as I am. It was a drumming bear and the arms moved when you turned the key on the back of the bear. Anyhow, I was pretty good with my hands, having fixed all my younger brother’s toys when he broke them. All I had to do was to take it apart, and put it back together right so it would work properly for the kid. All the time he watched me like I was performing major surgery. When the toy was all fixed again, he had a smile as big as his body. He hugged me, but he winced away with pain from his burns, but still he smiled that giant smile of his.

The Corpsman that was at the desk the day I came in was now in the bed next to me. He too had the sickness. I guess there was no way to avoid getting this bug!

That day, when the doctor made his rounds, he was dismissing men back to their units without much fanfare. I could tell something was up. They were getting everybody out of the ward that could carry a rifle, and was able to shoot. When it came to my turn, I too was dismissed from the ward.

At the checkout from the Medical Unit, the Corpsman gave me some white pills, and told me to take them in the mornings and the evenings until they ran out. Also standing there was Ho, and he had a big hug for me, as he held his toy close to him. I smiled and I rubbed his head, and then I turned for the tent flap before I started to blubber like a little girl in front of him.

I really liked that kid. He was cool, and he was made more so, because he was wearing my spare utility cover on his head that I had the Kilo Company clerk get from my sea bag at the supply tent. I am telling you, the kid looked like the old comic strip from the Korean War, Dondi!

I guess it does not really take much to make a Good Story out of a Bad Story, but it was much easier with a kid like that!

I was glad to see that someone wrote a post about some of the better times in Vietnam. I was sorry to see the not too many people wrote to the post though. I've had a couple pretty intense reply's lately, but one of these days when I get up in the nerve, I'll tell the story of the attacking angry hornets. I'm not sure but I don't think many people realize that it was not all fighting all the time. There was a lot of humping, and a lot of funny stuff that happened over their. Until then- Take Care and Stay Safe. Semper Fi!

quote:

Originally posted by 173rdCombatVet_Nam:
I was glad to see that someone wrote a post about some of the better times in Vietnam. I was sorry to see the not too many people wrote to the post though. I've had a couple pretty intense reply's lately, but one of these days when I get up in the nerve, I'll tell the story of the attacking angry hornets. I'm not sure but I don't think many people realize that it was not all fighting all the time. There was a lot of humping, and a lot of funny stuff that happened over their. Until then- Take Care and Stay Safe. Semper Fi!

Good times were not scarce in Vietnam, only not written about. Sometimes the humor was of the Macabre nature, although, I guess you can find humor in everything if you really look for it and you really want it, or need it! In one of my stories, Alan Tanguay's run-in with the waterbuffalo was funny, and Bob's Cot was funny too, but for the most part, not all times were bad times there.

I was with the greatest group of men in the world, and even in the midst of battle, I felt safe with them! Unlike my feelings of our US Congress, I could count on the men at my side to stand with me, to laugh with me, and to be true to me!

We were never the victims of the war; We were men doing a tough job. The Victims of the war were all at home; their guilt for what they did to us still bothers them! I pity the easily led fools that did not back us or welcome home like we should have been. We were better than they are to this day!

A quote from Joe Carey-[" I pity the easily led fools that did not back us or welcome us home like we should have been. We were better than they are to this day!"]


Yes, Yes we are. And so I have to keep reminding myself every day. Yet sometimes I wonder Joe, which is worse. The guilt of having done so much, or not having done anything at all. Throughout the turmoil that is a constant in my mind, like a movie that never changes, and is without end, I should think the latter would be the case?

Take Care and Stay Safe!!!

quote:

Originally posted by 173rdCombatVet_Nam:
A quote from Joe Carey-[" I pity the easily led fools that did not back us or welcome us home like we should have been. We were better than they are to this day!"]


Yes, Yes we are. And so I have to keep reminding myself every day. Yet sometimes I wonder Joe, which is worse. The guilt of having done so much, or not having done anything at all. Throughout the turmoil that is a constant in my mind, like a movie that never changes, and is without end, I should think the latter would be the case?

Take Care and Stay Safe!!!

No bad dreams here Nam Trooper, I unloaded mine so very long ago. The telling sets you free!

The thing I remember best that could be memorable despite being in the war zone was how cheap things were at the post exchange. The locals entreated us to buy them things. The most popular would be Salem cigs that cost a dollar plus with a case of Bud for 2.40. Freaking cheap and the gooks sold it for a profit. They were so grateful, it was "boom-boom..." It was such a paradox!

Of course there was boom boom as (clap clap)blackmarkt even a swimming poolat on baseclose to Da Nang.Beer,but duty first..

quote:

Originally posted by anthonybauwens:
Of course there was boom boom as (clap clap)blackmarkt even a swimming poolat on baseclose to Da Nang.Beer,but duty first..

In 65 and 66, our only pool was a stream that took the rain run off from the mountains during the rainy season, and we were either on the perimeter or in the field, there was no boom-boom for any one. The best we could do for that kind of action was R&R or being wounded and sent to a hospital out of South Vietnam.