Dear Uncle Emil,
It's for sure. The Ninth Division has been divided into two groups. Two thirds of us (by us I mean me too) are going, the remainder have been reassigned to other divisions. Of course my steps were dogged by my good friend, irony. I'm not sure if that's the right word. Maybe strange coincidence is more accurate but irony seems to make the story better. As to where we're going, rumors ruled the roost until last week. Fort Ord, California one day, Fort Collins, Colorado the next. Once in a while Schofield Barracks in Hawaii popped up but who could believe something like that? Well, Schofield won. Back in infantry training when those of us with glasses were issued prescription sunglasses we joked we were getting them for our future duty in Hawaii. Guess that turned out to be true for two out of a hundred, ninety-two of us. Who'd have thought it would pay to be three days AWOL?
When the sorting out process began, those staying in country were weeded out first but not all at once. Over two cycles to the field faces changed. New men arrived, others simply vanished to other units. We were never told exactly what was happening during each step, things just changed. However, with each passing day the rumors got more accurate. Finally, we stopped going to the field and the war in the delta was taken over by the ARVNs. Good luck with that. From the little I'd seen of them they didn't seem to be much of a fighting force. Hope I'm wrong.
As the next few days passed those who were heading back to the World but had the least time in country began to be reassigned to other duty. My two best friends ended up working at the PX. Each morning in formation a dozen or two names were called out to be assigned. After a week all but nine of us were either ordered to other duty or told they would remain with the company. Finally, eight of the remaining nine were ordered to remain with Bravo Company but not me. Last man on the fence. It should have come as no surprise. Part of me feared retribution from our First Sergeant for the time when he told me I wasn't paid to think. When you're the last man it's easy to think you're being singled out for the very worst reasons.
At last I was reassigned. Turned out they were forming a new Field MP platoon and that's where I was headed. Grabbed my gear and struggled off across base a happy man knowing I was on my way to Hawaii. Would have cried for joy had it not been improper for a man who'd faced the enemy and not crapped his pants.
So that's where I am, in a barracks filled with MPs and MPs-to-be. We received one week of training then started working duty shifts. Since us new guys are at the short end of the stick, we get the night shifts. Odd how attitudes change in a heartbeat. As grunts we had no love for MPs and now that we wear the black armband, MPs instantly turned into decent people. Night on base sure beats night in the field and sleeping in a bunk feels much better than the floor of a rice paddy or under a haystack (yup, me and the Farmer slept under a haystack to escape a night time downpour).
On my first shift I came to learn about the AWOL problem. Apparently there were a few GIs who'd decided the war wasn't to their liking and walked off base with intentions of never being seen again. Then word came down that the division was pulling out and they started to sneak back under cover of darkness, one at a time. That first night, me and the regular MP I was riding with, had to arrest one of the AWOLs. Felt sorry for the guy. Both for the time he was going to spend in the stockade and for being dumb enough to do what he did and mostly for where he did it. I figure he felt time in jail beat having to face the NVA should they win the war.
At night we get access to a WATS line. I don't know if that's the right word for free long distance phone calls. There's usually a half hour wait in line but it sure is great being able to call home. At the moment there's a wedding in the offing. I'm not sure of the date as it all depends on when I can get leave. Once again rumors fly. At the moment they're saying our leaves will come when we're finally assigned to existing units back at Schofield Barracks. Who knows, maybe this one is right?
Aloha,
Archie
That was the last letter I received. Might be the last ever. Archie's life is on the fast track. Combat, release, marriage, all in a few weeks. Doubt he'll find the time to write. Or get his head screwed on straight for a long time. Maybe our trips are done for good. That I wrote 'maybe' is the hope of an aging man knowing life is passing him by. Boys grow to men. Men to fathers. Free time gone to the winds.
Awoke in the middle of the night, tent lit by the full moon. Lap of waves on the shore rubble and a soft rustling along the tarp walls. Popped the flashlight on a pair of beady eyes. Probably following the scent of crumbs on my heaped clothes. Doused the beam and lay musing on the mouse. And that I was able to hear his probing. A good sound when your hearing's as poor as mine. Passed onto thinking of the unseen and unheard layers of life. Felt like I was close to some kind of truth. One that was about as substantial and lasting as the froth on the morning's stream as it passed beneath the log bridge. Fought hard to get a grip on whatever that truth was but sleep got me first. Maybe it had me all along.
Clouds rolled in during the early morning hours. Didn't feel like rain but strapped my rain jacket on the outside of the pack just in case. Thinking of Bingshick Lake for camp tonight. Either that or Harness less than another quarter mile up the trail. Not much excitement today, just miles. Dreamt of a maple tree in my neighbor's yard last night. Double trunked, both dead at the top. The man kept dropping hints he wanted it felled by your's truly. I took one look at the surrounding power lines and knew there was no sense in me trying. Didn't have the skill. Don't know what it is about people in dreams. Not a one of them shows respect for the feelings and skills of others. 'Specially me. Been thinking of hiring a new dream crew. Maybe some good looking ladies instead of idiot neighbors. Maybe a couple of comedians. Dreams of my youth had more pizzazz. These days it's neighbors with sick trees. Makes me consider foregoing sleep altogether.
Reached Bingshick lowering under clouds but with near seventy degree air. Time for a swim. Don't know how cold a well digger's belt buckle is but I've heard they're near as cold as the water I swam in. Raised my voice two octaves and gave thought to a late life career with the Vienna Boys Choir. Couple of logs intended as benches graced the fire grate. Have no love of logs when I'm canoeing. Six hours paddling is pain enough in a man's backside. But after a day of walking they had their appeal.
Slept 'til near three before I stepped outside. Felt the first raindrop on my return.
So that's where I am, in a barracks filled with MPs and MPs-to-be. We received one week of training then started working duty shifts. Since us new guys are at the short end of the stick, we get the night shifts. Odd how attitudes change in a heartbeat. As grunts we had no love for MPs and now that we wear the black armband, MPs instantly turned into decent people. Night on base sure beats night in the field and sleeping in a bunk feels much better than the floor of a rice paddy or under a haystack (yup, me and the Farmer slept under a haystack to escape a night time downpour).
On my first shift I came to learn about the AWOL problem. Apparently there were a few GIs who'd decided the war wasn't to their liking and walked off base with intentions of never being seen again. Then word came down that the division was pulling out and they started to sneak back under cover of darkness, one at a time. That first night, me and the regular MP I was riding with, had to arrest one of the AWOLs. Felt sorry for the guy. Both for the time he was going to spend in the stockade and for being dumb enough to do what he did and mostly for where he did it. I figure he felt time in jail beat having to face the NVA should they win the war.
At night we get access to a WATS line. I don't know if that's the right word for free long distance phone calls. There's usually a half hour wait in line but it sure is great being able to call home. At the moment there's a wedding in the offing. I'm not sure of the date as it all depends on when I can get leave. Once again rumors fly. At the moment they're saying our leaves will come when we're finally assigned to existing units back at Schofield Barracks. Who knows, maybe this one is right?
Aloha,
Archie
That was the last letter I received. Might be the last ever. Archie's life is on the fast track. Combat, release, marriage, all in a few weeks. Doubt he'll find the time to write. Or get his head screwed on straight for a long time. Maybe our trips are done for good. That I wrote 'maybe' is the hope of an aging man knowing life is passing him by. Boys grow to men. Men to fathers. Free time gone to the winds.
Awoke in the middle of the night, tent lit by the full moon. Lap of waves on the shore rubble and a soft rustling along the tarp walls. Popped the flashlight on a pair of beady eyes. Probably following the scent of crumbs on my heaped clothes. Doused the beam and lay musing on the mouse. And that I was able to hear his probing. A good sound when your hearing's as poor as mine. Passed onto thinking of the unseen and unheard layers of life. Felt like I was close to some kind of truth. One that was about as substantial and lasting as the froth on the morning's stream as it passed beneath the log bridge. Fought hard to get a grip on whatever that truth was but sleep got me first. Maybe it had me all along.
Clouds rolled in during the early morning hours. Didn't feel like rain but strapped my rain jacket on the outside of the pack just in case. Thinking of Bingshick Lake for camp tonight. Either that or Harness less than another quarter mile up the trail. Not much excitement today, just miles. Dreamt of a maple tree in my neighbor's yard last night. Double trunked, both dead at the top. The man kept dropping hints he wanted it felled by your's truly. I took one look at the surrounding power lines and knew there was no sense in me trying. Didn't have the skill. Don't know what it is about people in dreams. Not a one of them shows respect for the feelings and skills of others. 'Specially me. Been thinking of hiring a new dream crew. Maybe some good looking ladies instead of idiot neighbors. Maybe a couple of comedians. Dreams of my youth had more pizzazz. These days it's neighbors with sick trees. Makes me consider foregoing sleep altogether.
Reached Bingshick lowering under clouds but with near seventy degree air. Time for a swim. Don't know how cold a well digger's belt buckle is but I've heard they're near as cold as the water I swam in. Raised my voice two octaves and gave thought to a late life career with the Vienna Boys Choir. Couple of logs intended as benches graced the fire grate. Have no love of logs when I'm canoeing. Six hours paddling is pain enough in a man's backside. But after a day of walking they had their appeal.
Slept 'til near three before I stepped outside. Felt the first raindrop on my return.
No comments:
Post a Comment