It was right after monsoon season when for me, all hell came loose in that far off land of “OZ”. It came unglued on a recon patrol in the proximity of our base camp in the Quang-Tri province.

The enemy’s Tet Offensive was in full swing at the once Capitol City of Hue. They were also attacking Phu-Bai, laying siege to Khe-Sahn and Saigon.  Rolling Thunder was in high gear. This was the first, or maybe the second time, President Johnson ordered Rolling Thunder. Air power from the Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps were pounding the North Vietnam area of Hanoi and Hai-Phong, along the DMZ, as well as around Khe-Sahn, the Ho Chi Minh Trail, and any other targets they could find.

But this recon patrol for me, as a peon in the mix of the grand scheme, was just like another patrol, seeking out and finding Charlie or North Vietnamese Army regulars. The team leader didn’t specify to about what our mission was. Which might have been a good thing to do, in case we got captured. Most low ranking enlisted were not taken POW just shot on sight, especially our reconnaissance teams.

At night we could see the massive B-52 Arc-Light bombings during our radio watch time, which helped keep us awake. The monsoon season was over and South Vietnam was it’s normal hot and humid stinking self once again. We had been out maybe three days with a team of six, including Doc.

I had lost all respect for this team leader because he was in my opinion just a “hot dog.” Meaning he had an attitude of “they can’t hurt me, I’m the greatest of the greatest Marine ever built, I’m indestructible”.  It also seemed at times we patrolled in an aimless way, not really doing anything to find the enemy, which was our JOB! Why are we going down here and over yonder when Charlie could possibly spot us? It only made common sense to me we that we should not be moving around so damn much and maybe we should find some signs, tracks, broken branches, old fire pits, or anything that would indicate that Charlie was or had been in the area.

After spending the night in a location we set out on a long grueling and tiring jaunt. As to where or why, I don’t know. I guess he had some idea of where he wanted to go or was directed to go to by command authority.

Now I am the type of person that requires lots of fluids. It was SOP, standard operational procedure, that we normally carried two-four canteens on our web belt. This along with the usual full ammo pouches, other necessary items, ass packs with suspender belts, and attached to them were fragmentation grenades, different colored smoke grenades, and a trusty K-Bar. Everything was electrical taped down so as not to rattle, bang, and make any noise.

That morning of our jaunt it seemed like we had walked forever as we tracked below ridge lines and through tall grass and trees. He finally gave the signal for us to take a break alongside this swift current river. We never checked first to see if there might be an encampment of Charlie.

There were times when Charlie would be camped out, cooking rice, or doing whatever Charlie wanted along these rivers and streams. They never expecting that a group of green and black painted Americans, who were carrying all sorts of items that would put something on them they couldn’t wash off, would just come along and invade their territory. That would make for an interesting situation.

I was out of water due to the intense heat, and my physical make up of needing more than maybe some did of fluids. And probably from the out of the ordinary type long haul we just made.

I didn’t know if anyone else used up as much water as I, and I didn’t really care, because I was hoping with all I had in me that he would allow us to fill our canteens. I got lucky, I was elated beyond all imagination and thrilled that at last he gave the order, “Fill your canteen’s if you need to.”

I could’ve drunk a gallon. Doc made sure that we used those iodine tablets in our water. They were officially called water purification tablets. Yeah right! I don’t which was worse, drinking iodine or crappy water?

I filled up my canteens in the areas where the river had overflowed and left some better looking water. I did notice an oily type film on top of the water.

I moved it away with my hand but I’m sure, well now I know that some of it got into my canteens. I put the tablets in and drank slowly. It was worse than drinking water that had become stagnant. But it was fluids and I needed it. I only drank in small amounts; I knew that if I took big gulps it could make me sick.

Soon we made it around the river to a hill that had some trees on top and fairly high grass below the ridge line. The team leader allowed us, to my disbelief, to use heat tabs to cook our new “long rats”. Small bags of dehydrated stuffs that once hot water was poured on the contents, it would come to life as food.

We made our little stoves with the heat tab inside out of C-RAT bread cans. And of course we made coffee, but then he let us smoke! Why not just send up a white star cluster round and shout, “Hey Charlie! Here we are. Come and get us, you bastard!”

I finished eating, but not feeling the best. Our infamous leader was looking through the binoculars at our new little AO. All of a sudden he told me look through them down in the wooded area below. I saw a S****pot load of black pajamas with straw hats, scurrying around with all sorts of arms and other nasty weaponry.

He got the radio man over to him, and using the code cards he called in artillery. For once, he hit the target. After calling in the artillery strikes, he told to us to saddle up.

As I said, I was not feeling to good. It was hard to describe. I felt weak, trembling, and head spinning. I thought, oh no, crap, heat stroke.

Then of all of the dumbest and most idiotic thing he could’ve done, he announces that we are going to go down there and get them! Say what? We only got 6, how many did I count of VC? Over 20, and I don’t know how many he had seen or counted, or how many were below ground.

The artillery fire continued to make some holes. They kept firing until he told them to stop. It wasn’t our place to go sweep and destroy. We were to report what was observed, and let the higher command make the decision as to what to do.

There had been a lot of rockets and mortars being fired on our home base, so I was pretty sure that our mission was to find these rice propelled turds. Then from a distance do them in, however we could. Any mop up could be done by an infantry unit, but not by only six men!

Oh no, he’s going to be a HERO! And I seriously think that he thought he would get a medal for some sort of leadership or gallantry. He was going to lead our vastly outnumbered team against no telling how many VC!

We got down the hill close to where we had spotted the VC. We were moving through these little saplings of trees, with their small branches all around us. He directed me to fire my grenade launcher to the front. When a grenade launcher is fired, its armed like six-seven feet once out of the barrel, so I had to be very careful not to hit one of these branches.  It might go off and wound or maybe kill some of us.

Now I’m sicker than hell and just about can’t walk. I’m dizzy, with my heart pounding, and I want to throw up but can’t. I lost control of my bowels and my urinary tract. It felt like I was burning up inside.

I did as he ordered, desperately focusing on not hitting any of the low lying limbs. And somehow I was doing what he wanted even though I had blurry double vision.

When we closed to one of the enemy positions, our point man opened fire, killing a couple of VC coming out of hole. A grenade was thrown in. I hear another burst of fire from somebody who yelled out, “Take that!”