thedrifter
04-11-06, 01:37 PM
April 11, 2006
Letter From Ed Smith to His Son, Army Cpt. Will Smith
I enlisted in the Marines on May 9,1964, prior to graduating high school. On June 21,1964, I took the long bus ride to Charleston, W.V., to start my journey. We arrived at P.I. in the early morning hours and were promised beds as soon as they were ready. It didn’t take long for reality to set in. I wasn’t in W.V. anymore. Boot camp in the 1960’s was nothing like it is now. Vietnam was not a big topic at that time. It was just getting started. Advisors had been sent to help the Vietnamese army. After getting to Camp Pendelton (California) it seemed like more troops were starting to be sent over, beginning the buildup. I had no idea at that time that I might be sent to war. Mid-1965 there were more rumors that we might go. I had no clue what we would be facing.
We left Long Beach, Ca. on board ship for the long trip over. Our days consisted of daily patrols in different areas of our responsibility (always on foot). At night we were in our holes around the perimeter. I would guess if we got more than four to six hours sleep a day we were lucky. Our meals were C-rations, which I thought were pretty good. If we got to stay in the company area at meal time we did get hot food. Our accommodation was a big tent which slept about two squads each. The sides were rolled up to allow for air circulation which helped some. I don’t remember a time that I slept on my cot at night. I should interject that I was an automatic rifleman in an infantry platoon. If you remember in "Forrest Gump" about the rain coming down, going sideways and at times like it was coming up from the ground — been there done that.
During the rainy season when we would be in the jungle we did not sleep in tents. Just pull up some real estate next to a tree and close your eyes. I have always said if I can sleep in a water hole I can sleep anywhere. In ’Nam it seemed like we were always in the brush. Once in a while we would have some clearings. It was real difficult to see very far ahead. You had to keep your eyes moving to see what was in front, to the side, and most of all where you were walking. The V.C. were good at rigging booby traps. In firefights that I was involved in you could not see the enemy that good. You knew the general area you were drawing fire from. We would return small arms fire and then the best sound I have ever heard were the choppers coming in. When they started firing their weapons it was like rain coming down with all the shell casings that were falling out of the sky.
On November 14, 1965, we were on patrol — 11 men, walking through chest high grass. Word was passed from the point man to the rear: Watch out for a big hole in the path. There were nine lucky Marines in front of me. My boot caught on a trip wire. I do not recall but my buddies said I did a flip in the air. I do know when I looked around that I had also missed a few more surprises the V.C. had left.
I took shrapnel in the right hip, both legs, right foot and it also imbedded dirt in my arms. My fire team leader was behind me and he was wounded in the right leg and hand. My buddy in front of me had a small wound to his neck. A chopper was called in and took us to a medical unit. From there Mac (fire team leader) and I were sent to Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Mac stayed behind and I traveled from there to Hawaii, and on to California. While I was in the hospital overnight there I did get to call my wife and my parents to let them know I was O.K. From there I was sent to Bethesda Naval Hospital. That was the closest to our home. My wife, Jane, was sent a telegram telling her I had been wounded in the lower extremities and would be sent to a hospital close home. No other contact between the military would be forthcoming. Needless to say, Jane and my parents didn’t know what to expect. The Red Cross helped me call from California. Telegrams were the method used to notify families during that time.
Just speaking from my experience, travel was slow. Always by foot. We were airlifted twice while I was there. It was hot, muggy, even when it rained. It was difficult to use a weapon that had rounds that would detonate on impact because there were trees all over. The body armor I had consisted of a flak jacket and a helmet. When you went into a village you never knew who the enemy was. We even had kids that would try to kill us. Sometimes you had a Vietnamese soldier with you. More often you didn’t. It was fly by the seat of your pants. We were either fighting the regular North Vietnamese Army or the Viet Cong. They were like an army, organized and seemed to have plenty of weapons.
One thing we learned early on: Destroy everything that you could not use (i.e., radio batteries if we thought they were dead . . .) because the V.C. would figure out a way to use them against us.
At night, sitting in your position around the perimeter you would sometimes hear music or propaganda being broadcast over loudspeakers. You mentioned about it being dark at night, to me it was always darkest about two or three hours before dawn. So black you could not see your hand in front of your face. None of us carried any kind of a light. If you lit a cigarette you [would] conceal it as much as possible. One of scariest [situations was being] assigned to be outside the perimeter in an observation post for most of the night with a hard-wired radio and the next morning find[ing] out the wires have been cut. Or setting up an ambush, going through dense brush or foliage and every other man drops out of the patrol. To spend all night not knowing what’s going to happen and by yourself is scary. Walk into a village to do a search and you can see a mound at each end of the ‘streets’ with slits for viewing , just knowing someone [was] going to blow you away. Set up claymores at night, pick them up the next morning and find out they have been turned around. If you had set them off, you might kill yourself. The only time I thought I did something really stupid was: We had a couple V.C. that were going to come through the wire; naturally we opened up with a lot of firepower. One man had a minor injury to his upper arm and the seargent [came] down the line and wanted a few volunteers to go after them. Pick me, pick me, wrong thing to do. You go out about a 1/4 to 1/2 mile and see them in the distance silhouetted going over the next hill, and you think, Why did I volunteer for this?
We did not have the high-tech gizmos that are available to today’s fighting forces. There were no cheering groups of people when you came through a airport. I did not wear my uniform that much if I was off base, not that I wasn’t proud of it. I was proud to be a marine. Still am. Your mom has always said that her husband did not come back from Vietnam, someone else did. My temperament is not the same as it was when I left to go fight. I guess going through something like that does change a person. I personally did not come up against a lot of animosity for being in ’Nam.
As far as what I think of you being in the military, proud as a peacock. I just didn’t want you going in as anything other than an officer. I spent time knowing what it was like enlisted and knew you had it in you to be better and do real good as an officer. All of the commendation letters we have seen proves your C.O.’s know of your leadership abilities. Being called back in for this stint in Iraq makes me proud plus a little concerned. I know you will take care of yourself and your men and they will do the same for you. I’m going to end this for now. Maybe this will give you some help on your article. If you need more of something let me know and I’ll try to fill in the blanks.
Ellie
Letter From Ed Smith to His Son, Army Cpt. Will Smith
I enlisted in the Marines on May 9,1964, prior to graduating high school. On June 21,1964, I took the long bus ride to Charleston, W.V., to start my journey. We arrived at P.I. in the early morning hours and were promised beds as soon as they were ready. It didn’t take long for reality to set in. I wasn’t in W.V. anymore. Boot camp in the 1960’s was nothing like it is now. Vietnam was not a big topic at that time. It was just getting started. Advisors had been sent to help the Vietnamese army. After getting to Camp Pendelton (California) it seemed like more troops were starting to be sent over, beginning the buildup. I had no idea at that time that I might be sent to war. Mid-1965 there were more rumors that we might go. I had no clue what we would be facing.
We left Long Beach, Ca. on board ship for the long trip over. Our days consisted of daily patrols in different areas of our responsibility (always on foot). At night we were in our holes around the perimeter. I would guess if we got more than four to six hours sleep a day we were lucky. Our meals were C-rations, which I thought were pretty good. If we got to stay in the company area at meal time we did get hot food. Our accommodation was a big tent which slept about two squads each. The sides were rolled up to allow for air circulation which helped some. I don’t remember a time that I slept on my cot at night. I should interject that I was an automatic rifleman in an infantry platoon. If you remember in "Forrest Gump" about the rain coming down, going sideways and at times like it was coming up from the ground — been there done that.
During the rainy season when we would be in the jungle we did not sleep in tents. Just pull up some real estate next to a tree and close your eyes. I have always said if I can sleep in a water hole I can sleep anywhere. In ’Nam it seemed like we were always in the brush. Once in a while we would have some clearings. It was real difficult to see very far ahead. You had to keep your eyes moving to see what was in front, to the side, and most of all where you were walking. The V.C. were good at rigging booby traps. In firefights that I was involved in you could not see the enemy that good. You knew the general area you were drawing fire from. We would return small arms fire and then the best sound I have ever heard were the choppers coming in. When they started firing their weapons it was like rain coming down with all the shell casings that were falling out of the sky.
On November 14, 1965, we were on patrol — 11 men, walking through chest high grass. Word was passed from the point man to the rear: Watch out for a big hole in the path. There were nine lucky Marines in front of me. My boot caught on a trip wire. I do not recall but my buddies said I did a flip in the air. I do know when I looked around that I had also missed a few more surprises the V.C. had left.
I took shrapnel in the right hip, both legs, right foot and it also imbedded dirt in my arms. My fire team leader was behind me and he was wounded in the right leg and hand. My buddy in front of me had a small wound to his neck. A chopper was called in and took us to a medical unit. From there Mac (fire team leader) and I were sent to Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Mac stayed behind and I traveled from there to Hawaii, and on to California. While I was in the hospital overnight there I did get to call my wife and my parents to let them know I was O.K. From there I was sent to Bethesda Naval Hospital. That was the closest to our home. My wife, Jane, was sent a telegram telling her I had been wounded in the lower extremities and would be sent to a hospital close home. No other contact between the military would be forthcoming. Needless to say, Jane and my parents didn’t know what to expect. The Red Cross helped me call from California. Telegrams were the method used to notify families during that time.
Just speaking from my experience, travel was slow. Always by foot. We were airlifted twice while I was there. It was hot, muggy, even when it rained. It was difficult to use a weapon that had rounds that would detonate on impact because there were trees all over. The body armor I had consisted of a flak jacket and a helmet. When you went into a village you never knew who the enemy was. We even had kids that would try to kill us. Sometimes you had a Vietnamese soldier with you. More often you didn’t. It was fly by the seat of your pants. We were either fighting the regular North Vietnamese Army or the Viet Cong. They were like an army, organized and seemed to have plenty of weapons.
One thing we learned early on: Destroy everything that you could not use (i.e., radio batteries if we thought they were dead . . .) because the V.C. would figure out a way to use them against us.
At night, sitting in your position around the perimeter you would sometimes hear music or propaganda being broadcast over loudspeakers. You mentioned about it being dark at night, to me it was always darkest about two or three hours before dawn. So black you could not see your hand in front of your face. None of us carried any kind of a light. If you lit a cigarette you [would] conceal it as much as possible. One of scariest [situations was being] assigned to be outside the perimeter in an observation post for most of the night with a hard-wired radio and the next morning find[ing] out the wires have been cut. Or setting up an ambush, going through dense brush or foliage and every other man drops out of the patrol. To spend all night not knowing what’s going to happen and by yourself is scary. Walk into a village to do a search and you can see a mound at each end of the ‘streets’ with slits for viewing , just knowing someone [was] going to blow you away. Set up claymores at night, pick them up the next morning and find out they have been turned around. If you had set them off, you might kill yourself. The only time I thought I did something really stupid was: We had a couple V.C. that were going to come through the wire; naturally we opened up with a lot of firepower. One man had a minor injury to his upper arm and the seargent [came] down the line and wanted a few volunteers to go after them. Pick me, pick me, wrong thing to do. You go out about a 1/4 to 1/2 mile and see them in the distance silhouetted going over the next hill, and you think, Why did I volunteer for this?
We did not have the high-tech gizmos that are available to today’s fighting forces. There were no cheering groups of people when you came through a airport. I did not wear my uniform that much if I was off base, not that I wasn’t proud of it. I was proud to be a marine. Still am. Your mom has always said that her husband did not come back from Vietnam, someone else did. My temperament is not the same as it was when I left to go fight. I guess going through something like that does change a person. I personally did not come up against a lot of animosity for being in ’Nam.
As far as what I think of you being in the military, proud as a peacock. I just didn’t want you going in as anything other than an officer. I spent time knowing what it was like enlisted and knew you had it in you to be better and do real good as an officer. All of the commendation letters we have seen proves your C.O.’s know of your leadership abilities. Being called back in for this stint in Iraq makes me proud plus a little concerned. I know you will take care of yourself and your men and they will do the same for you. I’m going to end this for now. Maybe this will give you some help on your article. If you need more of something let me know and I’ll try to fill in the blanks.
Ellie