By September ‘69 Echo recon had seen plenty of combat and too many men were crazy. Our lieutenant decided no more patrols, ambush, jungle, monsoon for these burnt out grunts. They would finish their tours as clean shaven, beer drinking, pot-smoking REMFs, in the rear with the gear. I was one of those lucky men. […]
Boz. That’s what they called me. In May 1969, during an ambush off LZ Phyllis I threw a frag that landed on the rucksack of my platoon leader, Lt. Karl Swenson which should have killed him. It happened like this: We’d set up an ambush with multiple lines of fire along a well used trail. […]
We said it each day of our miserable lives. We said it when it rained, and when it didn’t rain, when it was hot, when it was hotter. “It don’t mean nothin,” we said. We said it because it sounded tough. We said it to keep from crying. We said it because it might be […]
Medic asked his grunt and Arty friends if they smoked weed in Vietnam. Officers and NCOs were asked how they handled men who did pot. Here are the replies: Arlan Ervasti Bravo 1/7 Cav ’69 I was in Vietnam from April till late Oct 1970. I can’t recall anyone smoking dope or getting high in […]
The Kid: A Day in Hell I Will Never Forget, by Jack Parente
One morning, a week after we bulldozed the ancient graveyard, fifty or so angry peasants in ceremonial garb, carrying prayer offerings, walked the two miles from the village of Song Be and showed up at LZ Button’s main gate. They’d heard the rumors and demanded to see the graves of their loved ones. With two […]