JUNGLE HELL
They're fellow brothers in arms will be the difference between life and death in the the frightening jungles of
Vietnam.
By: Zac Osgood
Prologue:
"Stay down!" Cockeye yells from behind a rock.
I and my fellow men stay down in the tall grass surrounded by the thick jungle.
The Vietnamese keep us on the ground with the endless firepower of their AK-47's, 7.62mm machineguns, and worst of all the RPG's.
"Echo point to Command Base!" Captain Lackerson yells into the radio, "Echo point to Command Base! We are surrounded by Charlie! Delta Sector is lost! Repeat Delta Sector is lost!"
Dirt around us flies into the air as bullets pierce the Earth, and RPG's sends shrapnel and debris flying right at us.
"Wilson!" Cockeye yells, "God damn it Wilson! Get your ass over here!"
Wilson struggles up and runs over to Lackerson and huddles behind the rock.
"Wilson!" Lackerson yells, "Get the fuck over to Easy Sector and report that Delta Sector is lost! Our right flank is exposed! Tell them to get their asses over to our right flank and hold the position until further notice!"
"Yes sir!" Wilson screams.
Wilson jumps up and starts running.
"ZING! ZING!" Wilson is shot right in the stomach when he starts running, his blood is sprayed onto us.
I army crawl over to Wilson to find him coughing up blood, and is gushing blood through his intestines where the bullets went into. I keep pressure on the punctures.
"Medic!" I yell although I know nobody will come to Wilsons aid.
"Johnny!" Lackerson yells at me, "Get Easy Sector's ass over to our right flank! Now go! Go! Go!"
I look at Wilson and have to pry the grip of his bloody hands off my jacket. I now regrettably have to leave him to die. I army crawl further into the jungle, until I can get up and proceed with my orders. Meanwhile, semi-automatic machine guns are unleashing bullets from all around, in pursuits to kill me.
Keep running, keep running, then you won't get killed.
Chapter: 1
The Final Stretch
My name is Johnny Dowels, I have been training with my friends and comrades for weeks. The buddies I have made are men from all around the United States. Paul Gibbs from Miami, Wilson Stripe from New York, Jack Peers from Green Bay, Bill Nicks from Pittsburg, Tex Brandstein from Austin, Brad Seuss from Davenport, and Lex Thames from Saint Louis. We are all soldiers in the United States Army, the 708th Army Regiment also known as Devils Fury.
I look out the doorway of the army huey, down below is the vast green jungles of Vietnam, the man with the M.G. keeps a close eye down on the jungle, he'll look behind every now and then and take a glance at us.
"WHOMP!-WHOMP!-WHOMP!-WHOMP!" I listen to the loud sound of the hueys propeller spinning above us.
I poke my head out of the helicopter and see at least fifteen more hueys following behind ours.
I look back into our heuy and take a glance at them men in the chopper. I don't know one man, but Jack sits in front of me, and Tex is sitting next to me. I watch as Jack toys with his dog tags with his fingers. I look at Tex and watch him tap his fingers on the stock of his M-16 which is placed on his lap. I look at my duffle bag which sits on the floor below my feet.
Then I revert my gaze to my units insignia on my arm. The insignia is a black diamond shaped patch with an eagle in flight, in its right claw is a sword, the left carries an M-16, behind the eagle are peace branches, and under the eagle is in gold '708th'.
I look at the gunner of the huey, and I notice that his helmet reads something. I take a closer look and I see what it says, it reads:
There is no fucking god!
I ignore the crude writing, but I can't help but thinking. What the hell has Vietnam
done to these people?
The huey suddenly begins to descend and in moments the helicopter is hovering off the ground and clouds of dirt fly in the air.
"Everyone out!" the pilot yells.
I get up, grab my duffle bag and rifle, and get off the huey with the rest. Once we all touch solid ground, we all dash to the side and watch as the huey takes off, allowing another one to drop more off.
For a solid five minutes we watch as they hueys drop down and soldier get off. Once the hueys are gone, the dust clears and reveals behind us, across a dirt road, a large camp.
Suddenly an Army Jeep rolls up with two men in the front seats. The soldier driving is in his combat uniform only no helmet. The other stands up in the Jeep, he has no shirt on, only his pants only rolled up into shorts, his dog tags hang down his neck, he has black curly hair, aviators hide his eyes, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
The guy looks at us.
"About time you boys got here," he announces, "I'm Captain Dennis Lackerson."
Everyone snaps into attention.
"God damn it!" Lackerson yells taking the cigarette out of his mouth, "I am the commanding officer of your company, I am not command of the entire battalion. Who by the way is Lieutenant Colonel Hilton."
Everyone stands at ease.
"Now," Lackerson says taking a puff, "In my company, you will do as damn well instructed, I don't except defeats. You all can address me as 'sir', 'Lackerson', 'Captain', or some call me 'Cockeye' because there is no command quite like me, I'm rather insane about proper order, and being sure that every mission is a success. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir!" we all address.
"Second!" Cockeye continues, "I am giving you your first order! I want you to look at the man next to you….I don't care, if he is black, white, Asian, or fucking Latino….He is a man of your company, your battalion….He is not just a soldier, he is a comrade and is the one who could save your life." Cockeye takes off his aviators and looks upon us. "Throughout your time here, you have his back and he has your back. You are to forget all the segregation bullshit back in the States."
We look at each other, soldiers that surround us of different races. Indeed, some black, white, Latino, and Asian.
"Now come on," Cockeye said, "Lets assign you barracks."
Lackerson sits down in the Jeep and the driver rides into the camp with us following behind by foot.
We leave the small area of flatland and journey across a road towards the camp. The perimeter of the camp is kept behind a small wall of sandbags, a watchtower looms over the road with some guards at the top, and an American flag waving on the top of the tower. A ditch lies between the camp and the road, which appears to be full of barbed wire that is covered with a camouflage net. The netting is also used in the camp, behind the sandbags are four Army men that sit with an M60 at the ready, while just above them is a camo net supported by a poll and pinned to the ground.
We cross inside the camp and I see Jeeps, tanks, and trucks all kept under cover with camouflage netting. Large tents set up everywhere with netting on top. There are not just tents here, there seems to also be a lot of large metal barracks, there are also green wooden buildings that don't looks to be very durable. Some of the green buildings appear to be barracks, others as the showers, mess halls, and yes a lot of hospitals with big red crosses on the roofs of the buildings.
As we walk across the camp, some troops watch as walk past, others don't seem to give a damn. Some are walking around and some sitting with friends. A lot of troops are smoking and drinking a couple cans Budweiser or Schlitz. Like Captain Lackerson, there are many with no shirts on with rolled up pant legs, some wearing their jacket and pants down, and a few with their pants and jacket on, only with their sleeves rolled up.
A few big telephone poles are set up around camp with speakers at the top that blare out the AFN. At the moment the AFN is playing the Rolling Stones single "Paint it Black".
Lackerson jumps up in the Jeep and faces us as the Jeep move along.
"Listen up!" Cockeye yells, "We have a mission tomorrow morning! Those who will be sent, will be the men in the following barracks! Barracks A-9, A-10, B-1, and B-2, will all be taking part on the mission tomorrow. Each barracks holds about six men, so we are sending a patrol of about 24 troops. We are being sent out about sixty miles from here to patrol an area suspected to have a few of Charlies troops. We will spend about five fucking days scouting the jungles. Until then, be sure to meet your comrades and get plenty of rest."
Cockeye begins to sit back down, but jumps back up and faces us again.
"Oh yes," he says, "And you better fucking drop off your gear in your barracks, none of you want to be fucking walking around camp in your combat gear. If you start walking with it on, you're gonna get the living shit beat out of you."
I step up to the the door of barracks A-10, which I was assigned to stay, the barracks is one of the green wooden buildings. At least I will have a familiar face under the same roof, Wilson Stripe, has also been assigned to the same barracks.
I open the screen door and step inside with Wilson. As soon as we walk in, the smell of cigarette smoke and yeast fill the air, the barracks have six cots lying around the room and each one has a footlocker and a table.
"You the replacements?" a soldier says in the corner of the room.
I look over to see three men sitting on cots, smoking and having a drink.
"Yes," Wilson said, "This is barracks A-10 isn't it?"
"Well it ain't Kansas," one soldier jokes.
"Whats your names?" a soldier who is lacking a shirt walks over to us.
"Johnny Dowels," I said shaking the man's hand.
"Wilson Stripe," Wilson says also shaking the man's hand,
"Nice to meet ya," the man said, "My names Corporal Ted Scotts. Two years service of walking through shit."
"Jason Scamp," another man waves, "I have served two years as well and at rank of a private."
"Robert Kemps," the last man says, "But my buddies call me "Robbie", I have spent three years in lovely Vietnam. And I am currently at the rank of a sergeant. And there is one more man here named, Tim Slacks, a staff sergeant. He is currently occupying the showers, he will be in shortly. The guy has been here for about four years, and one hell of a soldier."
We walk over to the empty cots and set our gear down.
"So what happened to the last guys?" I ask.
The mood in the barracks grows solemn.
"Tripwire got em," Robbie said.
"Did they make it?" I mumble.
Robbie shakes his head.
"Nobody survives that," he whispers, "Well, except for that bastard over there." Robbie talks a little louder and points towards Ted.
"It wasn't a tripwire," Ted contradicted, "But it stiff fucking hurt." Ted reaches down for his pant leg and starts to lift it up. "God damn Charlies got me in a Punji Bear Trap."
Ted lifts his pant leg and reveals mangled flesh and scars covering his entire calf.
"Yeah," Ted continues, "Thank fucking God that the trap didn't have a deep enough hole, just an inch deeper, and they would have got the artery."
"You wouldn't have got hit if you were watching where you walked," a soldier say's walking into the barracks, "These the new guys?" The soldier points to us.
"Yeah," Jason said, "Johnny, Wilson, this is Tim."
"Nice to meet yall," Tim said, "You boys joining us on the mission tomorrow?"
"Thought we would tag along," I said.
"Ah," Tim nods his head, "Well, how do you feel about night missions?"
"Never thought of it much."
"Start thinking, night missions are just as dangerous as in the day. Quite possibly more dangerous….When you're out there, at night, you can't see a damn thing in front of you, and be wise when you let your bullets fly. When those fucking Charlies see your blast, its like moths to a light. It can be an easy way to you and comrades killed."
"Alright lets go!" Cockeye ordered as he lead us out the front gates.
Today is it, today is our first mission. Cockeye said it shouldn't be very difficult, we will all be dropped a couple miles outside camp. Our boys have reported Vietnamese movement nearby, our job is to go in and have a look, and if possible, neutralize the threat.
Cockeye is leading a small patrol, right around 25 men. We are all in full gear, helmet, pack, canteen, med pack, ammo, and of course an M16.
Once out the gates, we walk down the road until we reach a large field of tall grass where several hueys awaiting us. Five of them have their engines running and the blades turning slowly.
"Five men in each huey!" Cockeye yells, "Go!"
I run to the nearest huey and hop in. Four more men soon jump in and take a seat near me, except for one, he sits on the floor of the heuy with his legs dangling out the doorway. I watch as other men get into the last four hueys.
Cockeye runs to your helicopter and jumps in.
"Alright!" he yells to the pilot, "Take us up!"
"Yes sir!" one of the pilots responds.
The engine purrs louder and the blades spin faster, the grass below us dance in it's wind. In a matter of seconds, the huey is off the ground, and is soon followed by the other four.
This flight feels different than yesterday when we came here, perhaps its the fact that we are entering possible enemy territory, hell, all of Vietnam is suppose to be enemy territory. The flight is nerve racking and can raise your pulse.
I look outside the helicopters left door and see another huey fly near us. The men inside wave over to us. The man sitting at the door waves back.
"So do you think the Army will let me bring a tiger home if I nail one?" one of the men on the plain yells over the sound of the propellers.
"Your job is not to hunt tigers soldier!" Cockeye yells, "Its to hunt Charlie!"
"I'm to get a couple of them fuckers!" the man manning the minigun laughs.
"Hey boys!" one of the pilots yells, "Were approaching the drop off! Get ready!"
Cockeye looks at all of us through his aviators.
"Alright men!" he yells, "This is the first mission for a few of you new boy's! Just like in basic training! You all got three seconds to get out before this sucker heads for home! Get off and find cover! I don't care if it is nearby jungle or in the tall grass! Just find cover until further order from me! And keep your eyes peeled!"
I quiver at the idea of Lackerson saying "keep your eyes peeled".
Lackerson looks out the door, then back to us.
"Everyone up!" he orders.
We all get off and hold on to handles and brace ourselves on the walls.
In a matter of seconds, I see an open land of tall grass and nearby jungle.
"Get out!"
Lackerson jumps out and runs about forty feet out and takes cover in the tall grass, the man sitting at the door jumps and finds cover, another jumps and runs off. Then I jump, as soon as my boots hit the soil, I take off and get about thirty feet out. I have my M16 aimed towards the jungle which sits about two football fields away.
I look over my shoulder to see the last man jump out right as the huey takes off. In a matter of a second another huey drops about thirty yards out, then another on our left, soon all the hueys are brought down and men scurry out, soon to disappear in the tall grass. I look up to see the last helicopter fly out of sight over the jungle.
Suddenly Cockeye crouches over to me.
He touches my shoulder taking account that im here, he then heads over to the next nearest man. I watch as he rises up slowly checking the surroundings, he looks back at us and motions for us to get up. He looks over to where the other men were dropped, and motions for them to stand, and they do. Soon soldiers start to appear standing in the waist high grass.
Lackerson motions for everyone to come together.
All the other men come together in a group
"Alight," Cockeye said, "Were going to be out here for a while, I want everyone to form into a line, keep an eye out, if there are Vietnamese in the area, our boys who have been here longer, will definitely let you know what those fuckers will do. And keep an eye out for traps and any type of hole in the ground, report it. If not reported, I will have you digging a foxhole for every single man in this platoon. Lets go."
Lackerson takes lead and walks straight for the jungle, men walk around me and I tag in towards with the middle with Tim, Ted, Jason, Robbie, and Wilson. We start to walk across the large field, while keeping a good watch on the jungle and further grasslands.
"There is no boot camp," Robbie said, "That can actually give you the best feel of Vietnam."
"I never thought Vietnam would be quite like this," Wilson said, "I've have never felt so trapped or enclosed, like there is nowhere to go."
"Well get use to it," Tim said, "The longer you stay here, the more trapped you will feel."
I look beyond the jungle to see the mountains that tower above the trees, to our far left and right, there are large mountains and foothills.
"Ever had many fights in the mountains?" I ask.
"We've had a few," Jason said, "But our duties lie mostly on flat land, in the jungle. That is, if you call this fucked up place a flatland."
"Dont worry," Ted said, "You will get your mountain fights in the time you're in hell, well, that is if you make it out of hell."
"They hard?" I ask.
"You're in Nam, everything is hard, even when comes to taking a piss at times. No matter what, you are now fucked."
"Tell me Johnny," Robbie said, "Do you swear a lot?"
I look at him, then look to the ground, as I feel I may have tripped.
"Well," I said, "I can, that is, I do when it's appropriate, I would never swear in front of my family. Never in front of my mother."
Ted laughs. "Looks like we got a schoolgirl in our company!"
"Can it Ted!" Tim exclaims, "I respect the guy for not swearing his dear mother. But I got to say Johnny, those views of swearing when appropriate, will change real fast."
"Hell," Robbie said, "A lot of people even swear on their helmets!"
I suddenly remember the helmet on the hueys gunner which we came in on, 'there is no fucking God'.
"Hey," Robbie continues, "I got something on my helmet."
Robbie takes his helmet off and hands it to me.
I turn it over and see the black writing on the back. It reads:
PEACE CAN ONLY BE FOUND WITH AN M16
I laugh a little.
"I like it," I said.
"Yeah," Robbie said taking back his helmet, "Others have put down other sayings or else made a peace sign."