Following up on Neil's, MY LIFE post ....well, my daughter says I've likely worn out a couple of Guardian Angels along the way.
I do not spend many days thinking about my time in the service. Veteran's Day is one when I do.
My back-story: in the 1960's I petitioned my draft board to have my draft status changed from 1-A (prime beef) to 1-AO (prime beef, less 7lbs of rifle. A conscientious objector, who agrees to serve in combat, weaponless). A 1-AO status
forces the Army to make me a medic. Amazingly - the draft board agreed.
Soon I was off to Ft Sam Houston TX as a 'C.O.' for abbreviated basic training (6 weeks, no weapons, - mostly with 7th Day Adventists) Then we joined 100's of regular, smarter, Americans and went through 10 wks of training to become combat medics. They could carry a weapon -
My test scores allowed me many extra weeks of training and OJT in the big Brooke Army Medical Center.
B.A.M.C. was the burn center for all branches of the service. (one assignment was to unload airplanes filled with casualties at a local AF base - we stacked them on busses and delivered them to the correct wards at BAMC --- a real wake-up call, if I needed one)
By the middle of this war we were going over alone, I was on a 707 filled with like strangers. I was assigned to replace a medic going home after 18 mos in the central highlands. He mentored me for 15 days, handed me some medical books sent from the States.....and told me not to volunteer for "any d__n thing!" ("buddy volunteered for door gunner - Huey went down, We only ID'd him by the ring he wore.")
I worked with the units in an area made famous earlier by a book and a movie ( the Ia Drang valley, LZ X-Ray and LZ-Albany - in
"We Were Soldiers, and Young") One afternoon, 21 days later stuff happened to earn me my CMB ,the medic's version of the CIB (
Combat
Infantryman's
Badge)
I carried my aid pack and the usual grunt stuff...plus things like blood expander, extra meds, more tourniquets, field dressings, bug juice, etc. and a bigdam can of peaches which I never did eat! I fired off a full clip just one time. I was dragging this giant black Sgt. towards the Huey when the little people opened up on us. He was missing most of one arm - or holed through both legs, I forget, he threw me his 16 at me, pointed and shouted something. Probably "shoot it!" So I did. Killed some banana trees. The crew on the medevac saw me do it - and kept quiet about it. I got to keep my C.O. status....
By this point in the war our weekly fatalities were around 32, down from 46 per week the year before. Not worrisome figures - but then consider that our Huey's flew 500,000 medical evacs during the war. So, a lot of wounded for every fatality.
I came home with 2 pair of bandage scissors and my busted Zippo. (hinge gave up - it leaked lighter fluid on your leg or chest - which burns like crap! once you figure out where it's coming from) I flew to Seattle, Was processed out of the Army. By midnight I was in SeaTac airport with a ticket home and a few 100 $$, payment from all my unused leave.
I went into the airport rest room - stripped off my new uniform, incl. shoes, hat & top coat and stuffed it all in the trash can. Put on my Levi cords, and a T-shirt, desert boots and boarded the plane to Kansas City.
I thought I'd camouflaged the fact that I was returning from Vietnam - not a popular thing at the time. But a little old lady came and took the seat beside and said, "you're coming home from the war aren't you?" she touched my brown arm.
Once back in Mass at my old hospital job - I was glad when I finally lost my tan. It was giving me away. It was mid February.
My wife was 18, I was 19 when we married in Los Angeles, the Summer of Love.
Now I'd lost so much weight - she had to be careful not to hurt me....but we tried!
First child was born a year later.
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Once stabilized at the 71st in Pleiku - they were sent on to the big hospital on the coast at Quinhon.
The dreaded Ia Drang valley is SSW of Pleiku and deadly happneings at LZ Albany* - just S of Pleiku.
You might remember the newsman, Howard K Smith. His son survived the so poorly lead disaster near LZ Albany, which occurred just after the nearby
We Were Soldiers fight; that one lead by a real leader of men.
*
https://www.lzxray.com/jack-smiths-first-person-account-of-lz-albany/too many words!
Stig