From the time I graduated boot camp, my MOS. was a "supply man”. My training however in the warehouses of 22 area of Camp Pendleton was sweeping floor's picking up butts, and other trash. Eight hours a day, excluding the physical fitness training that we had each morning.

I got sick and tired of doing this, as a PFC. And especially when I got promoted to L/Cpl. One morning during formation, The First Sgt. asked for volunteers for field mess duty. Without hesitation I raised my hand. "Bailey? Stand over there." He pointed. I did along with some other bud's that was sick of doing the same thing like I did.

I packed my sea bag, got hauled by six-by to the training hills of Camp Pendleton. The grunt's were doing maneuvers i.e. practicing infantry tactics.

The hours sucked big time. But I enjoyed the freedom I got in between times to cook. After I did my time. I was transferred across the parade deck to the forklift shop. Now being a farm boy. I knew how to operate heavy machinery. I still had to train for 8 days on the 4 thousand pound forklift to the 6 thousand pound forklift with a tilting action. I also had to take a written test, and do a field test on the machines. I did well.

I enjoyed being a forklift operator. I even got some "atta-boy's."

I was soon promoted to Corporal. Then I got my order's to West Pac. Viet Nam, or as I call it "The Land of "Oz." A name I sorta took from another two Marines that I met on the Leatherneck web site.

So I went on pre-deployment leave. I took my wife and daughter back home to Illinois. She and my baby daughter would live there while I was in OZ.

I reported to the Staging Battalion. I checked into the barracks. I was one of the early ones. "Cpl, You have squad bay watch tonight," the desk jockey Marine told me. "No, I can't." I gave him a BS line, and he bought it. I didn't have to pull any stupid duty such as this.

We moved on and began training to go to Viet Nam. The classes were so boring.

The day came when we all got on that Bird to Nam. From LAX we headed to Hawaii for a lay over for fuel and crew change. I'll never forget this flight.

The stewardess, flight attendant now, sat on my lap and put her arms around me and stayed there all the way to Hawaii. I think she was trying to console herself as to what she was doing. Sending innocent young men, yeah right, "boys" to where they may die or get wounded.

In Hawaii we were not allowed to move out of one roped off area. When we boarded again, we took off to Okinawa. It was there that I trained with a bunch of recon Marines. They kept ribbing me, "Bailey, I ‘betchya you don't get no job in supply! ‘Betchya you go to recon!" I laughed and played along.

We went through the shot line, one of the big ones in the hip. The infamous Gamma Goblin shots. We stayed in a barracks that was just basically rows of bunks. Each morning we had roll call, and then they read off the names of those that were to head to OZ. One morning mine was called.

I got off the C-130. The heat and the stench welcomed me to OZ. We walked out down the rear ramp and saw the body bags loaded on luggage carts being pulled by a little tractor. We were told about the green body bags.

We marched, well sorta of marched, to this one staging area. I saw the look on some combat vet's faces. "The thousand yard stare." I didn't know that look then, but I certainly know now.

"Hey," one grunt yelled out. "Look at all the F*****g New Guys. Good luck, you may come back." His humor was not reassuring. It was scary as hell.

Each morning we had to stand in formation and wait for our name's to be called for orders. Again, one morning mine was called.

"Bailey!" "Here," I answered. "3rd Recon," the guy laughed, “told ya so!"

Recon? I don't know what the hell that is.

I got on a C-130. It took me to Phu-bai, Hue. I was told to report to E Company, 3rd Recon. A SSgt pointed, "Up that road right there."

I picked up my sea bag and just started walking. It was raining that nasty Monsoon rain. Six-by's came by splashing that ol' red clay mud all over me. Finally this Marine in a jeep picked me up. "Where you going?" I didn't know what rank he was. "E Co. 3rd Recon." I told him.

He dropped me off. Some of the Recon guys somehow got there before I did. They hung with each other. I stood in the middle of some tents. This black Corporal came out of this tent. "Hey! C'mon in here man, you're drowin' out there."

He told me his name. There was this Sgt on my left as I entered the tent. It was full of marijuana smoke. The Sgt was totally wasted. He was listening to his C&W and trying to sing, "Hey ******? YOU FIND SOMEONE TO PLAY WITH?" I thought, “Oh boy, that ain't gonna go over very well, the "N" word.”

The Corporal just laughed, "Don't pay him no never mind. He's so F**** up, and just a terrible redneck" M****F****."

"You drink?" He asked me. "Hell yes." I mean I was still so damn scared, that I almost started crying. He pointed out "Man, the mess hall is over there. But don't eat that s****. C'mon. I'll take you to our club, The NCO club. I don't drink I just smoke. You get two beers, with two tickets. Have you got your real money exchanged yet?"

"No." I said. Then the Corporal said, "I'll get you your tickets and many more for free. The bartender's don't give a F**** as long as you got tickets. You can drink."

He went his way. I got my two beers. Then he brought me over more tickets. This NCO Club building had part of its roof gone. There was a USO band playing under tarp. The first song they played, was "Silver Wings" by the Hag. I had to hide my tears.

I got good and drunk. And the black Cpl and I put some brews in our field jackets. With arms wrapped around each other we walked back to the tent. He was stoned and I was drunk.

The next morning I'll never forget. Somebody came in the tent and yelled, "Where in the hell is BAILEY?" "Who in the F****are you?" I asked. "I'm your F****First Sgt! Now get your ass out of that rack, get your ass a moving, we got a lot of work to do." I then became the company’s supply man.

It wasn't long before the Company formed. We had this red-headed Major as our CO. "We're loading up and going to Okinawa to re-supply and train,” he announced.

We boarded C-130's off we went. We trained in NTA, the Northern Training Area. I asked the ol' man. "Sir? I'd like to go out on a patrol." He smiled, "You'd be a damn good Recon Man Bailey. I'll assign you tomorrow."

The First Shirt went nutzoid when he found out. "You are the Company Supply man, not a damn recon man!" He was really some kind of P****. I went out for five days. I loved every minute of it.

I had to re-supply the company, as we didn't have anything. The real kicker was that I didn't know how to set it up, and I didn't know how to get things.

We lost one Corporal, a black man with only ten days left. He drowned in one of the deep lakes up there in NTA.

When we were not training, for entertainment we tried to find booze. We did get some potato wine. We put cans of that ol' nasty bread out of the C-rations and poked holes in the bottom tied several to the tent post. We then tried to strain the horrible taste out. It didn't work very well. We drank it anyway.

Soon we were back aboard C-130s headed back to OZ. Our bird had engine trouble and we had to go back. Twenty minutes later it was back in the air. We were only five minutes late landing back in Nam.

I was soon set up in my own tent as the supply hut, if you could call it that. We kept getting rockets, mortars, and machine gun fire. There I was in this damn little bunker, I can't shoot back, I just had to wait till it was over.

One very early morning the First Sgt came in, "Get your ass up!" It was like 3 am. "We got to inventory this man's gear." He had gotten shot on a night patrol outside the Company line while I was in my little bunker.

The very next morning I asked to see the CO. "Sir, I request to be transferred to a team, let somebody else do this." "You got it Bailey." I was assigned a team that I would later take over. All the while I was still the Company supply man until a replacement could be found.

My first patrol was going to be a night ambush just outside the lines near this small river. A sniper from the wooded area fired a shot at us. I immediately hit the deck. Everyone on the team just laughed. "What,” I asked. "He can't hit a barn!"

We went out further. The team members took turns on radio watch. I was asleep, if you could really call it that. All of a sudden all hell broke lose.

Bullet's hitting the water, trees, and dirt in front of me. I went into the fetal position. Damn I was so scared. Someone yelled, "You Son of a *****! Get your act together and start firing back!" I wanted to crawl into my ass pack. This man who told me this caught one round. I really tried. No use. I then got some kind of p****. I emptied almost all my ammo.

Our team leader, this dip wad Sgt had us pulling back. He fired a red flare, to signal "enemy contact." Like the grunts on the company lines couldn't hear what was going on!

We carried this wounded Marine through the perimeter tangle foot wire. We got down in cover again when an artillery flare came up. Holy S**** VC shooting at us, and we kept running. I fired more bursts. I don't know if I hit anyone or not.

We got back to the Company lines and had to leave the wounded Marine. I never knew his name. It still bothers me to this day.

We did a lot more until we moved to the West Side of our area. I’ll tell you more later, My Brothers. Semper Fi!