What a way to get out of OZ being rushed around at the least expected moment. I knew I’d be leaving soon and in typical military fashion, no warning, no heads up on when just, “Hey Sgt Bailey, the First Sgt said, pack your shit...you’re leavin’ in 30 minutes or so”, this company runner told me.”

 

I packed everything I wanted to keep. I hadn’t seen my team since I had left. Doc, my corpsman, I knew got transferred out.

 

That morning as I was leaving, I told the jeep driver to stop. I went over to where the birds were firing up and teams were boarding. I saw my team and wanted to shake their hands, wish them well. Then with a lump the size of a cantaloupe in my throat, the driver sped away taking me over to the airstrip in Quang-Tri. The C-130 landed keeping two engines running. We got on board and flew to Da Nang. It was December and raining off and on, hotter than the hubs of hell.

 

There we were processed, and told to be back the next morning for our shipping out time.

 

Some of us went to the PX. I hadn’t been to a real PX since arriving in Nam except for the time when I was returning to OZ from my R&R in Hawaii with my Wife, we stopped in Guam. We were allowed one gallon of hootch to bring back. My team had put in request for what they wanted. I had money from my Wife. I hadn’t been paid except for a $5.00 a month living expense. The money sure did come in handy as I was able to get other things on Guam.

 

We took hot showers and got in our best utility uniform, got on a big bird flew to the Rock, landing on the south end of the island at Kadena AFB. We were then trucked to Camp Hansen for further processing. We were searched for contraband. Some tried to keep stuff but were caught and I don’t know what happened to them.

 

We were assigned to a barracks that even had sheets and blankets. We got our gear out of storage from whence we put it there before going’ to OZ. Most all of us had to get them cleaned. I had been combat promoted to Sgt so I had to get new chevrons put on.

 

A few days went by when we got word to leave. We were taken back to Kadena and got on the Freedom Bird back to the WORLD. I didn’t feel much as I recall. I don’t know if that was from the shock of not being where I’d been or more probably, I didn’t want to feel anything.

 

It was a very eerie flight going back to the World. A deafening silence I don’t know how to describe, even the engine noise wasn’t heard, at least by me. I saw plenty of handkerchiefs and towels. They weren’t being used to wipe up something except maybe some tears. I noticed some slept, and I can’t remember if it was an all Marine Corps flight or a mixed bag of Military. I do remember those stewardesses, now called flight attendants. I mean I hadn’t smelled perfume since R&R, except on some of my Wife’s letters. It was such a pleasure to smell and look at these gorgeous Ladies.

 

My job in Oz was to be sneaky, and I was damn good at it. I managed to get me a flask and hid it after we got processed and also put three pints of whiskey in my shower kit. I just had to ask the stewardess for some ice water. It seemed like an eternity before we hit the shores of our precious homeland.

 

It was hard to imagine with the serenity of some security that it wasn’t that long ago, I was in the midst of a war. Now suddenly they weren’t anywhere around. Yet I was still apprehensive.

 

 

On the long flight back, I had lots of hours to reflect. Things that came to my mind were; “Why did I get out, with just a few bumps, lumps, scratches from enemy fire and others didn’t?”

 

When I got word that my Company CO a 1st LT, whom I befriended and who had only ten days left of his tour, was sent out with a team, I couldn’t believe it! So I even asked him and he said, ”I was ordered out, I don’t have a choice.” Then word came he had been killed. It really made me angry. His wife sent me a letter and his picture telling me how much he thought of me, and all about him. I sat down in my team’s tent and cried.

 

We had to go out with another team on one bird. Most of them were the same ones whom I had trained with in Staging BN, and had razzed me about, ”You’ll be going to Recon, you’ll be right with us.” We put them into their zone first. Then we got flown to ours.

 

We had a scout dog with us. We were working an area right up close and personal at the Rock Pile. The name served it well. Rocks and jungle made it very hard maneuvering around that place.

 

We went into a “Montagnard” Mountain Yard village. The smoke from the fires was still going, but we didn’t see them. I had an encounter with them on another patrol with my first team.

 

Seeing the village abandoned meant, “Oh Sheet, we’re in some deep stuff here.” Charlie was around or had been. The scout dog alerted his handler. Out of know where came this one lil’ Mountain Yard who spoke French and English pretty well. That scout dog saved our bacon on many occasions and it was strange. He didn’t like any South Vietnamese back in the rear, yet he didn’t mind the “Montagnard” Yard People, who were some mighty fine People.  The old man showed us where an NVA patrol had come close to their village. Then he vanished.

 

Later we were hot, thirsty. I remembered seeing this water fall and pool. So I directed the point man to go towards it. We were very careful. Yet, assured that if any of ‘em were around, the scout dog would alert us. The Scout Dog actually outranked me, he was a Sgt. I can remember one other time we had the same dog and handler. When the dog alerted on some VC, the handler whispered to me, “Look right between his ears, like looking down a rear V site on a rifle. You’ll see ‘em.” I did.

 

We took turns in the pool getting cooled off, and got plenty of some real good water for the canteens.

 

 We weren’t there very long when my radio operator motioned with his hand to come and listen. I took the handset from him and heard, ”Oh my God, help us, we...” silence “damn it, get us some…” silence. This went on it seemed like forever. For every Marine that came on the radio I knew their voices. They were desperately trying to get help. A large NVA force was ambushing them. One of my friends there got a direct hit with a mortar round.

 

I started sweating, getting anxious, I was smoking a bunch. The thoughts went away for a while. I started daydreaming about what it’s going to be like to see my Wife and Daughter, Mom and Dad.

 

I must’ve of fallen asleep for a little while. I woke up soaking wet, hearing their voices. I found out later that only one Marine had survived. He had under extreme fire retrieved every member of the team, except one, which he only got one little piece of his dog tag.

 

He told me, “The no account crew chief freaked out and wouldn’t help me. The pilots were both shot up, one door gunner was dead, and the co-pilot was dead. We walked right into a Battalion size NVA encampment. We tried to high tail it out of there but were boxed in. I don’t know why I wasn’t hit or killed.” With tears streaming down his face he said, “I wasn’t going to leave my friends there.”

 

The wounded pilot managed to get the damaged chopper out. How he did it he didn’t know, it had so many holes in it. The pilot died later.

 

 

For his actions my buddy was awarded the Bronze Star. In my book, he should’ve received the Medal of Honor for what he did. Somebody really botched it up as far as writing him up for an award.

 

Those were some of my thoughts about my time in Oz when we landed in Hawaii. We got off and we were told to be back in a short time. I found the head and took off my sweat soaked Dress Green Blouse. I put it back on until we got back on board. I asked the Stewardess if there was some way I could hang it up to dry. She took it and used a hair drier on it. She gave me an ice pack to put on my head. I was burning up. I thought maybe it was malaria.

 

She told me she heard me talking real low while I was asleep. She said she felt so sorry for me. I told her, “Ma’am, please don’t say that! It’s just something I’ll have to deal with, I guess.”

 

I woke up again, sweating. I remember I was dreaming about my last patrol when we got surrounded. I knew this time we weren’t going to make it out of this one. We had been in the same area before, and some of the gooks tried to get us at night, but with the help of a AC-130 “spook”/”puff” we made it out.

 

We had seen NVA in the valley bottom below us, on or near a river. I had sent two Marines to fetch us all some water. My point man told me that he’d seen this trail leading down to the small river. On a tree he saw something carved out, sort of like a drawing. I looked at it then looked at the terrain across from us, and that carving was exactly how one particular place looked across the way.

 

My point man climbed up in this tree and told me he could see smoke coming out of the jungle. I didn’t want to forewarn the enemy, so I didn’t call for an O-2 aerial observer. Instead I called in for a fire mission. The first round being a spotter round, we adjusted fire. The artillery was coming from Camp Caroll just North of Khe Sahn.

 

Once we got it on target it was “Fire for Effect!” Dat burn, you talk about a fireworks show. Then more batteries wanted to shoot after we reported secondary explosions. At first I thought it was echoes from our rounds landing. I could hear and see all hell break lose. My point man said there were NVA heading for the small river. Then a few fighter-bombers with some payload left, came in and dropped bombs. I found out later after this infantry unit swept the area, that we hit one of the largest caches to be found in that area, and a lot of blood some bodies burned.

 

I woke up back on the Freedom Bird. I reached in my small shower kit, and got me a pint out. I chugged it. I couldn’t take any more dreams. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I tried to concentrate on what was going to be waiting for me when I got on another flight to my home airport again.

 

Oh what great thoughts I had. I could see my Wife and how beautiful she would be. She asked me in a letter what I wanted her to wear when they came to get me. I told her, well, asked her, “Wear what you think would make any Man do a double take on ya.” She didn’t have to as there were many times that other Men did a double take on her.

 

I took another big slug off that pint.

 

The next thing I remember we were landing at Norton AFB in San Bernardino. We got herded into this big empty hanger where it seemed like thousands of Military were in there. We got a talk about malaria, and we were given a 30 days supply of orange pills to take. I didn’t miss a one.

 

I was surprised at how fast we got processed out of there. Many of us got in this big cab heading to the LA airport. I had been given some extra cash from my Sgt friend, so I paid my share.

 

I had a plan to call home once I found out how much a ticket would cost, and have some transactions done by a travel agent, or have my Wife send me money via Western Union, to get my ticket.

 

 

This Cpl was in front of me. Somehow he found out about my problem. He insisted that I take whatever I needed to buy my ticket. I did. He gave me his name and address, saying, ”If you can, pay me back, fine, if not fine. And don’t worry about it, if you lose my name and all, just forget about it.” I wish I knew his name, as I’ve felt over the year’s, I really want to pay him back.

 

I got my ticket and was told I didn’t have much time to get to the gate, she would call the gate and have them wait. I found a pay phone, made a collect call, and quickly told my Wife the flight number, airline and time we’d be landing. I got back to the gate, and was told to get on board. I was the last one to do so.

 

To my surprise I was given first class accommodations, drinks and food were free. It was some kind of nice that they would respect us coming back. I had the stewardess wake me 10-15 minutes before we landed so I could freshen up.

 

She woke me. I jumped up reaching for my knife. There wasn’t any knife and I only scared that little gal pretty bad. I apologized, I felt so bad. This more experienced attendant told me not to worry, she was new, and to go on and get cleaned up.

 

The engines stopped, people were already getting off. I hesitated. I was a little nervous. I waited until all the others got off, and then I got up and walked to the hatch. The Pilot came out. “Semper-Fi Marine”, he said, holding out his hand to shake. “Yes Sir”, I said.

 

He told me he had done a couple tours in Oz, as a reserve Marine Captain flying mostly missions in the south in “Phantom Jets.” It was the first time I had heard the phrase used when he also said, “Welcome Home.” I had another lump in my throat.

 

I took my time walking up the ramp. When I got to the top, I couldn’t see my Wife or my folks. I got my sea bag then walked to the main floor of the terminal.

 

Then I finally saw her and heard her say to my delight, ”Well, there’s my baby”, as she hurriedly walked towards me. I picked her up and we kissed, she was crying. She was so soft, smelled like heaven. I hugged my Mom and Dad; we headed south which took about a 3 hours to get to my home.

 

My Wife and I were in the back seat. I put my head on her shoulder and felt so safe. I remember her telling me, “Honey, we’re home.” My Dad was worried about me because I was so thin. I told him I that was just fine.

 

I don’t remember it, but they told me a few days later that I had terrible nightmares. I would wake up in cold sweats. My Wife had to take the sheets off the bed, and then used some sort of pad to help absorb the sweat. During the day, I’d take the mattress outside and let it air out.

 

I got to hold my daughter again. We played games with her and held her when she cried. She and my Wife were my inspiration to live through that whole time in Oz.

 

I wasn’t 21 yet but it didn’t make any difference to the two brothers that owned the tavern we frequented. I had a few, and then I slipped from the bar to go set at a table to listen to the jukebox.

 

Back in that little tavern it hit me again, the same events in Oz. I guess I hadn’t finished thinking about it, and I needed to, or it just came.

 

I was back thinking about the time my friends got slaughtered, and I helplessly heard it all. I started remembering how I wanted so badly to try and get to them. It was about 2 clicks away from our position. I made a radio call asking if I could go to their aid, but I was told negative. I remembered the radio traffic between the radio relay operator and the team on top of the Rock Pile. They were trying to guide this Sparrow Hawk reaction unit of infantry, to the ambushed unit’s location. I heard and saw jets coming in and I could hear the choppers’ noise on the radio during different times.

 

Then I wondered if the NVA patrol that came by the Montagnard village, if they were just out that far on a recon mission, or just passing through to get to where my friends were getting killed. The “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve” things were going through my mind so fast.

 

Then just as quickly as the thoughts came it left. I was okay again. I was back in the little tavern at home. We laughed so much at the B.S. that was being said. And we talked about everything except Oz.

 

Semper Fi