Sunday, April 17, 2011
The Australian Soldier's English
There was an article this week in our local paper regarding English language barriers between Soldiers from Iowa and New Zealand Soldiers in Afghanistan. Even though both use the English language they had difficulty understanding each other and meaning of the words were different. Of course reading the story brought memories to my mind. In Vietnam we had soldiers from Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, etc. and of course there were all types of language barriers. To me, the funniest and craziest was when we had an Australian Soldier come in. He was carrying on and laughing and talking and I was at a total lost as to what he was saying due to his accent and meaning of words being different that mine. This seemed to amuse him and he just started talking more and more and became very animated as I became more and more confused. I think the only thing I ever got out of the conversation was something about someone looking like a monkey looking out of a cage. I knew he was not talking about me but could not follow who he was talking about. He was only around for about 10 minutes or so and I think he brought in another Australian GI to the ER and then he was off. He was quite the character, one whose personality would match what I have heard as far as description of Australians. I had always hoped to take a trip down under to visit my Austrailan Brothers but know I'll not have that opportunity, but that will no prevent me from downing a beer and toasting my mates.
Friday, April 8, 2011
What did you do in the war?
What did you do in the war? Most people do not know I was in the Army or in Vietnam. I rarely, if ever, tell people and only been asked a handful of times "What did you do in the war?" When they find out I was in Vietnam. I simply say "I worked in a hospital." Usually at that point in time the asshole will say, "Oh, that's it? Let me tell you about the Grunts, the firefights, what they did and had to go through, etc." This coming from a guy 20 years younger than I am who was never in the service. And for over 40 years I have felt so unworthy. I didn't fight and suffer like those out in the jungle. I wasn't wounded, maimed or killed. And worse of all I was always so afraid the Grunt's hated me and considered me a coward.
What did I do in the war? It is time for me to say. I was stationed at the 24th Evacuation Hospital in Long Binh on January 1st, 1971. I was told they didn't need an MOS 72B20, Communications Specialist. I had no medical knowledge. After a couple days I was assigned to the A&D (Admissions and Disposition). That was part of the ER, just separated by a short cloth curtain. I got my first taste of war that day. The A&D radio constantly coming to life regarding incoming choppers. Codes I didn't understand coming over that radio; traumatic amputations to the arms, legs and feet; head wounds; DOA; Gun Shot Wounds to the face; chest; etc. And the scrambling of those in A&D to grab gurneys running out to the choppers to bring in the wounded.
What did I do in the war? I worked a minimum of 12 hours from 1800 to 0700 hrs. I answered the radio and gathered information regarding the incoming. I let the ER know what we had coming in. I took the wounded off the choppers, many times climbing into the chopper amid wounded GI's tossed in on top of each other. I'd get them out and onto a litter and gurney in the darkness of night not knowing what to expect or if they were dead, alive or just what their wounds were. I put my hand under a GIs head and find most of it was gone from being blown off from an ambush using a Claynmore mine. I'd rush the wounded into the ER and try to get personal information from them, get them a number for blood work, etc. and an armband on. Many times during mass casualties I'd get the armbands ready and list the names as Unk GI 1, Unk GI 2, Unk GI 3, etc. along with individual numbers knowing there was no time to get any additional information as the wounded just kept coming and coming. I'd help in anyway I could. I'd cut off bloody uniforms, pump an ambu bag to keep them breathing, help bandage and dress wounds, etc. And not all incoming was a battle casualty. There were heart attacks, snake bites, motor vehicle accidents, a GI with an almost severed leg from a chain saw accident. There were drug overdoses, GI's who were fragged by other GI's mamasan's giving birth, dog bites, chopper and plane crashes and the very worst as far I was concerned the burn victims. And in between all of this we would have the drunks come in, or an injured NVA POW who grabbed a scalpel trying to slash you or a mentally unstable GI trying to fire an M16 and kill you.
Once the wounded were taken care of, or at least being worked on, it was time to take care of the dead. The dead soldier may have died in the field, on the way in or in the ER. Most times I would be in the Morgue by myself with a GI in a bag on a litter on the floor of the Morgue. I remember looking down at a young man who looked like he was sleeping. I slowly cut off all his clothing. I'd took off his dog tags and cut off any rings or jewelry he may have had on. I remember the body still being warm and I wondered if they made a mistake, maybe he was alive, but that was not to be. Once that was all completed I'd fill out a tag and tag his toe, zip up the bag and then tag the bag. I'd then go into the hospital and log in all his belongings and put them in a bag so they would be returned to his family. I'd then get another GI to come help me lift up the litter and get him on a rack in the Morgue making room for possibly another death. Graves Registration would be called to come pick up the body. There were times when I would be there in the Morgue with another GI to take care of the dead especially those who had received very traumatic wounds. I once helped post op taking care of several South Vietnamese dead with an Ambulance driver as so many were dying on the ward they needed help. Our emotions so screwed up at the time and him being mad at me for getting him involved. But I had to so something. I could only think of how bad it must be for those alive being surrounded by the dead on that ward.
Every day was exhausting and many times after all was said and done it'd get quiet and I'd look down at the blood on my fatigues, my hands and in my mind I'd wonder if if this really wasn't a dream.
I always prayed for these young men and their families. And for some reason felt so close to them as if one of my own had been injured or died. I always wanted to tell families that there was someone there as your child was dying who listened and spoke with them or that there was someone who treated their remains with respect and honor.
My life has always been filled with such inner sadness and I feel such loss for these you men who were wounded or died. And that sadness continues. Those days are so long ago yet I remember it everyday and I know it will be that way every day of my life until I die. And I hope that when I die I will be reunited with these young men.
So that is what I did in the war. And I must try to remember what one Grunt in from the field in a mass casualty situation said to me:
"I don't know how you do this every day. I am so glad I am out in the field because I would not be able to do this."
Thank you my brother.
What did I do in the war? It is time for me to say. I was stationed at the 24th Evacuation Hospital in Long Binh on January 1st, 1971. I was told they didn't need an MOS 72B20, Communications Specialist. I had no medical knowledge. After a couple days I was assigned to the A&D (Admissions and Disposition). That was part of the ER, just separated by a short cloth curtain. I got my first taste of war that day. The A&D radio constantly coming to life regarding incoming choppers. Codes I didn't understand coming over that radio; traumatic amputations to the arms, legs and feet; head wounds; DOA; Gun Shot Wounds to the face; chest; etc. And the scrambling of those in A&D to grab gurneys running out to the choppers to bring in the wounded.
What did I do in the war? I worked a minimum of 12 hours from 1800 to 0700 hrs. I answered the radio and gathered information regarding the incoming. I let the ER know what we had coming in. I took the wounded off the choppers, many times climbing into the chopper amid wounded GI's tossed in on top of each other. I'd get them out and onto a litter and gurney in the darkness of night not knowing what to expect or if they were dead, alive or just what their wounds were. I put my hand under a GIs head and find most of it was gone from being blown off from an ambush using a Claynmore mine. I'd rush the wounded into the ER and try to get personal information from them, get them a number for blood work, etc. and an armband on. Many times during mass casualties I'd get the armbands ready and list the names as Unk GI 1, Unk GI 2, Unk GI 3, etc. along with individual numbers knowing there was no time to get any additional information as the wounded just kept coming and coming. I'd help in anyway I could. I'd cut off bloody uniforms, pump an ambu bag to keep them breathing, help bandage and dress wounds, etc. And not all incoming was a battle casualty. There were heart attacks, snake bites, motor vehicle accidents, a GI with an almost severed leg from a chain saw accident. There were drug overdoses, GI's who were fragged by other GI's mamasan's giving birth, dog bites, chopper and plane crashes and the very worst as far I was concerned the burn victims. And in between all of this we would have the drunks come in, or an injured NVA POW who grabbed a scalpel trying to slash you or a mentally unstable GI trying to fire an M16 and kill you.
Once the wounded were taken care of, or at least being worked on, it was time to take care of the dead. The dead soldier may have died in the field, on the way in or in the ER. Most times I would be in the Morgue by myself with a GI in a bag on a litter on the floor of the Morgue. I remember looking down at a young man who looked like he was sleeping. I slowly cut off all his clothing. I'd took off his dog tags and cut off any rings or jewelry he may have had on. I remember the body still being warm and I wondered if they made a mistake, maybe he was alive, but that was not to be. Once that was all completed I'd fill out a tag and tag his toe, zip up the bag and then tag the bag. I'd then go into the hospital and log in all his belongings and put them in a bag so they would be returned to his family. I'd then get another GI to come help me lift up the litter and get him on a rack in the Morgue making room for possibly another death. Graves Registration would be called to come pick up the body. There were times when I would be there in the Morgue with another GI to take care of the dead especially those who had received very traumatic wounds. I once helped post op taking care of several South Vietnamese dead with an Ambulance driver as so many were dying on the ward they needed help. Our emotions so screwed up at the time and him being mad at me for getting him involved. But I had to so something. I could only think of how bad it must be for those alive being surrounded by the dead on that ward.
Every day was exhausting and many times after all was said and done it'd get quiet and I'd look down at the blood on my fatigues, my hands and in my mind I'd wonder if if this really wasn't a dream.
I always prayed for these young men and their families. And for some reason felt so close to them as if one of my own had been injured or died. I always wanted to tell families that there was someone there as your child was dying who listened and spoke with them or that there was someone who treated their remains with respect and honor.
My life has always been filled with such inner sadness and I feel such loss for these you men who were wounded or died. And that sadness continues. Those days are so long ago yet I remember it everyday and I know it will be that way every day of my life until I die. And I hope that when I die I will be reunited with these young men.
So that is what I did in the war. And I must try to remember what one Grunt in from the field in a mass casualty situation said to me:
"I don't know how you do this every day. I am so glad I am out in the field because I would not be able to do this."
Thank you my brother.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Texan's Toe
We had a lot of Texans in Basic Training. After we were in Basic for a while I remember one of the Texans talking with Ed (from Omaha) about his little toe. Apparently his little toe grew on top of the toe next to it. It was causing him some problems with his boots on and he was wondering if he should go to sick call. Ed told him to go for it and he did. I ended up sending him to the hospital to take a look at and see what could be done. Well, the answer was quick. He could get it cut off and continue in Basic Training or get a medical discharge. I believe that he was married and decided that he would not miss Basic or the Army that much so he took the medical. He was a good guy and we were all happy him.
You know, I never thought about it until yesterday. Maybe I should have went to sick call for my eyes. I totally flunked the eye test when I had my induction physical and my eye problems were not correctable. Who knows what the outcome would have been. But I truly believe from a young age that going into the Army and war was my destiny.
You know, I never thought about it until yesterday. Maybe I should have went to sick call for my eyes. I totally flunked the eye test when I had my induction physical and my eye problems were not correctable. Who knows what the outcome would have been. But I truly believe from a young age that going into the Army and war was my destiny.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
A Stupid Kid
As I look back at my early years I realize that I was a stupid kid. (I guess uneducated, shy and backward also come to mind.) I was horribly shy and really didn't have what one would call true friends. I barely made it through a Catholic Grade School. (We acutally have a first ever reunion of the school coming up.) I was made fun of, was a lousy student, terrible at baseball during recess, etc. I now know that I was terrible at baseball was due because of poor vision and not being able to judge distance. High School was even worse. It seemed the only thing that ever was good was working. Somehow that made up for everything else although it really kept me even more from school activities, etc. due to me working almost full time while going to high school. After High School I went to Des Moines and lived with a couple other guys and went to United Electronic Institute for six months. I was horrible at math, studying, etc. so I dropped out after about four months but lived and worked in Des Moines until my parents forced me to return to Omaha. I had made a friend, Steve from Wisconsin, and just starting to feel "normal" but that ended that. (I often think of Steve and where he ended up and wish we had had more time to get to know one another. We both shared some of the same circumstances in our past.)
I was working at a horse racing track and making some friends and started to feel normal when I was drafted and went to Ft. Lewis Washington. I was scared shitless. I was still very shy, not athletic, etc. and ready for failure. But a funny thing happened. I ended up feeling happy and normal. I made friends, laughed, told stories and we all did stupid things that we could laugh about. I guess we were all in the same boat. We were all away from home, out of our element, scared, etc. I never felt like this before and it was overwhelming. We were in the 4th Platoon which was considered the fuck ups. Every time our Company had to sit down the Drill Sargent's would say "Take Seats" to which we would reply:
"Rat Shit, Bat Shit, Suck your mothers tit. Cock suck, Mother Fuck, Eat a Bag of Shit. We're the mighty Penguins, all the other suck. We the might D12, rah, rah fuck." And once when ROTC was there for training with us we added "ROTC Suck" to the end.
At the beginning of Basic I did what everyone told me not to do. I signed up for an extra year to get a school. Little did I know that I would be offered a duty station right a Ft. Lewis but once they found I signed up for a school I was told to forget that. Shit, I could have stayed there for my full two years. So, after the Basic Training Graduation Ceremony, me and 3 or so other guys grabbed a cab and he drove very fast to get us to the airport for our flight from Washington to Nebraska. We got there in a nick of time and they put us in First Class. We were offered this great meal, etc. but I turned it down even with the push for me to take it from Ed. Why? I was embarrassed. Why? Who the fuck knows. I was just overcome with being shy and embarrassed again. What the hell was wrong with me. Anyway, I had two weeks in Omaha before my tour at Ft. Gordon, GA. It was a strange two weeks. I had a girlfriend and I fucked that up royally and I don't even remember the circumstance other than I was a total ignorant prick. I also had an altercation when while driving my mom's car. Of course I had the buzzed hair down to my scalp. Some guy next to me at a red light started yelling stupid things at me and threw hamburgers all over my windshield and calling me names. I kinda was forcing them over into the wrong lane when the light turned green and the driver yelled "please" so I backed off.
I remember being glad that leave was over. I just didnt' seem to fit in and was ready to go. Scared shitless again, but ready. I flew off to Ft. Gordon GA via Chicago, Atlanta and finally Augusta. When I got there it was time to settle in for a day or so with all the new guys getting stationed there for inprocessing. It was a time also a for meeting up with some guys I had met in Basic and boy was it like old home week. One of the guys talked all the time in Basic about his car "The Judge" and what a car it was. He was more than happy to show it to us all since he drove it down to AIT.
Well, I got to get some ZZZZZs. It has been such a fucked up week so far and I have been so sad. Thinking back to a time, that those who never served would not understand, brings some peace to me tonight.
Goodnight Brothers.
I was working at a horse racing track and making some friends and started to feel normal when I was drafted and went to Ft. Lewis Washington. I was scared shitless. I was still very shy, not athletic, etc. and ready for failure. But a funny thing happened. I ended up feeling happy and normal. I made friends, laughed, told stories and we all did stupid things that we could laugh about. I guess we were all in the same boat. We were all away from home, out of our element, scared, etc. I never felt like this before and it was overwhelming. We were in the 4th Platoon which was considered the fuck ups. Every time our Company had to sit down the Drill Sargent's would say "Take Seats" to which we would reply:
"Rat Shit, Bat Shit, Suck your mothers tit. Cock suck, Mother Fuck, Eat a Bag of Shit. We're the mighty Penguins, all the other suck. We the might D12, rah, rah fuck." And once when ROTC was there for training with us we added "ROTC Suck" to the end.
At the beginning of Basic I did what everyone told me not to do. I signed up for an extra year to get a school. Little did I know that I would be offered a duty station right a Ft. Lewis but once they found I signed up for a school I was told to forget that. Shit, I could have stayed there for my full two years. So, after the Basic Training Graduation Ceremony, me and 3 or so other guys grabbed a cab and he drove very fast to get us to the airport for our flight from Washington to Nebraska. We got there in a nick of time and they put us in First Class. We were offered this great meal, etc. but I turned it down even with the push for me to take it from Ed. Why? I was embarrassed. Why? Who the fuck knows. I was just overcome with being shy and embarrassed again. What the hell was wrong with me. Anyway, I had two weeks in Omaha before my tour at Ft. Gordon, GA. It was a strange two weeks. I had a girlfriend and I fucked that up royally and I don't even remember the circumstance other than I was a total ignorant prick. I also had an altercation when while driving my mom's car. Of course I had the buzzed hair down to my scalp. Some guy next to me at a red light started yelling stupid things at me and threw hamburgers all over my windshield and calling me names. I kinda was forcing them over into the wrong lane when the light turned green and the driver yelled "please" so I backed off.
I remember being glad that leave was over. I just didnt' seem to fit in and was ready to go. Scared shitless again, but ready. I flew off to Ft. Gordon GA via Chicago, Atlanta and finally Augusta. When I got there it was time to settle in for a day or so with all the new guys getting stationed there for inprocessing. It was a time also a for meeting up with some guys I had met in Basic and boy was it like old home week. One of the guys talked all the time in Basic about his car "The Judge" and what a car it was. He was more than happy to show it to us all since he drove it down to AIT.
Well, I got to get some ZZZZZs. It has been such a fucked up week so far and I have been so sad. Thinking back to a time, that those who never served would not understand, brings some peace to me tonight.
Goodnight Brothers.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A Strange Night
Last night I received an E-mail from my brother with a link to Youtube regarding the Vietnam Moving Wall coming to Omaha. I played that short video a couple of times with tears in my eyes. I then went up stairs and channel surfed and came accross a program following a pilot in the Air Force coming back to the states to meet the family of a service member that died in Afganistan. The pilot was the last person to speak with him before he was killed. He wanted to meet the family and tell them what a Hero their son was. When the pilot got back in the states he first stopped to Salute and pay his respects at the Airmans grave. He then walked the last mile meeting up with two of the Airmans Friends who were also in the service. He reached the home of the dead soldier and through tears spoke to his parents. He and the parents were crying, and huge tears were falling from the fathers eyes. He then gave them a flag which was hoisted on a flag pole. Later the mother stated just how difficult the last four months had been and just how much it meant to her family that the pilot had come and paid his respects. The show ended with a number of photo's of this 19 year old soldier who loved and gave his live for his Country.
I was crying and felt such sorrow for this young mans family. And it also brought such sadness to me for those who died in Vietnam so many years ago. Those young Vietnam GIs fought and died for their Country, but a Country that didn't really seem to care. And I again, as so many times in my life. apologized to them that I am living and that they had died.
I went to bed shortly after the program and layed in bed praying for our Veterans and those who have died in the war. However, I seemed to fall into a fast and hard sleep. With this sleep came a dream with me being back in the Army surrounded by my fellow GIs. It brought me such peace and comfort to be surrounded by them and speaking with them. This dream seemed to fill my entire night and as I finally began to wake up I found myself fighting to remain asleep and stay with them. Unfortunately that was not to happen and I was soon awake, lying in bed, trying to remember every detail of that dream and what we spoke about.
It seems that from time to time when things seem so sad and unbearable I have one of these dreams where my brothers are there for me and I'm longing to be with them. As I think about these dreams I wonder if they were a dream or real. I guess all I know is that I spent time with them and am thankful for that.
Well it's time to hit the sack. Good night my brothers.
I was crying and felt such sorrow for this young mans family. And it also brought such sadness to me for those who died in Vietnam so many years ago. Those young Vietnam GIs fought and died for their Country, but a Country that didn't really seem to care. And I again, as so many times in my life. apologized to them that I am living and that they had died.
I went to bed shortly after the program and layed in bed praying for our Veterans and those who have died in the war. However, I seemed to fall into a fast and hard sleep. With this sleep came a dream with me being back in the Army surrounded by my fellow GIs. It brought me such peace and comfort to be surrounded by them and speaking with them. This dream seemed to fill my entire night and as I finally began to wake up I found myself fighting to remain asleep and stay with them. Unfortunately that was not to happen and I was soon awake, lying in bed, trying to remember every detail of that dream and what we spoke about.
It seems that from time to time when things seem so sad and unbearable I have one of these dreams where my brothers are there for me and I'm longing to be with them. As I think about these dreams I wonder if they were a dream or real. I guess all I know is that I spent time with them and am thankful for that.
Well it's time to hit the sack. Good night my brothers.
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