I posted this on the forum on the old site a while ago.  If you guys have any Nam stories, I am all ears.  For all you vets out there, I have the utmost respect for you.  

There I was, clipping along at 100 miles per hour, just over the tops of the waves in the Air Cav Huey chopper.....loaded to the teeth with rockets, .50's and M16's. I wasn't alone that early misty morning in 69, I was joined by 10 other Air Cav attack choppers.

As we approached the beach head, we had Wagner blairing.....the boys LOVED Wagner...and it scared the crap out of the slopes. On our final run towards the shore, I couldn't help notice the PERFECT beach break right at Charlie's camp! I looked at my boy Lance and said.....

Ooops......wait a minute.......that wasn't actually me. Or was it?

..... ...... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ....... ....... ....... .. ... ... ..... ...... .... ... ..... ...... ......... .... ....... ...... ...... ........ ...... ... ... .... .... .. .. . ..... ..... ..... ond thot's awl I gawt ta say about thot.

Dumb movie.first of all CHARLIE DON'T SURF...second of all the Cav wasnt in the delta the 9th Div was (ask Gary Owen)....third no huey could ever lift a PBR with the engines armor ammo etc in it...fourth the so called Doe Long Bridge...never happend
even the Army didnt abandon its bases to dope crazed troops those boys would still be in LBJ (long binh jail)..fourth I had the pleasure of working with some "spooky" characters on occasion and doubtfull they would travel upriver with ordinary squids in a navy pbr to kill one of their own simply for taking the war to the enemy-not to mention the logistics of a well supplied camp- pretty hard to resupply a large army and their wives and kids-heck we even went without chow more than once -due to not getting resupplied in the field...then there is Platoon.....(Berringers Cold STeel push dagger didnt exist back in 68-)...My favorite is Green Berets with John Wayne because that was the movie playing at Ft Louis the night I left for Viet Nam...love those war movies...cant wait to see this new WWII sniper movie

Can anyone tell us the difference between the "Brown water navy" and Mobile Riverine Forces?

Would Coastal Division 16 (Patch with skull on a black spade and "No quarter") fall under the MRF ?  

Thanks

I hope the author does not mind that I copied this from another site to let you guys get a feeling about War
Ron

What can I say?  So many memories.

I was a medic/mechanic/medic again.  Went to Viet Nam late in 1970 as an SFC,
worked at the 85th Evac in Hue/Phu Bai.  First day after inprocessing I was
working the R&E (ER)day shift.  We got the call that birds were inbound with
wounded from God knows where now, perhaps Camp Evans.  Had a mass cal situation
on our hands.  I remember a big black E6 and I grabbed this one from the floor
boards, I had the head and shoulders and as we were moving him to the streacher
he screamed "my legs", and the guy helping me lost it as the lower half of this
poor soldier's left leg came off in his hands.  Was held on by a few shrads of
skin only.  Got a tourniquet on it and rushed into the ER.  Damned near beat up
on one of our new young surgeons who ripped all the dressings off at one time
rather than wait until we got more lines in and better stabilization.  A man
bled out on us because of that, couldn't plug the holes fast enough.  Almost
looked like one of the cartoons when the character drinks water and it squirts
out the many holes - wasn't funny at all then though.  Later the older surgeons
took him aside and explained the facts of life to him.  I stated more IV's,
dressed more wounds, preped more paitents in the next ten hours than I had in
the last seven years.  Welcome to RVN!  Blood over the soles of my boots and
working up my pants leg.  Thank God that not every day was like that!

Remember in Nam a lot of the patients were quick snatches (pick ups) by any
vehicle/air craft in the area, not all were brought to us by "Dustoff" but those
that were stood a better chance because they had the trained crews.  I relearned
that no matter what your skin color, faith:  everyone bleeds RED.  Be it the
small Vietnamese child that just happened to be in the wrong place at the right
time, the soldier that trips the wire, or those hit by misplaced ordinace by the
high fliers or gun bunnies.  Also, once hit, they all cried for Mommie and their
God, their tears and their fear were all too real.  And yes, sometimes, not
matter what you do or try to do, someone still dies in your arms - that's when
you need a support system and debriefing team - not to place blame but to learn
and be able to go with life.

I hated the carnage of war.  It made no sense to me that all these people were
being killed or maimed, yet I still bought into the notion that we were trying
to do good.  That we were helping a people retain their freedom.

Any way, after leaving Nam, I spent the rest of my carreer extolling the virtues
of that "golden hour" from the time a person is injured to the trauma center.
To teach medics and nonmedics all we could about care of the wounded.  God knows
that the grunt medic can't do it all by himself, plus he often becomes one of
the casulaties, ergo the birth of the "combat life savior program".  (Lots of
police departments are now training their officers in these skills.)

So friends, say a prayer for all the medics, that their mentors teach them well
and that they have the stamina and fortitude to continue on dispite all the odds
and that God wathces over and protects them.


Take care, Gene

It was a joke. Lighten up Francis.

I wasn't there, (35), but kept my dad out.
My English teacher in college was and he wrote some of his stories. He was a Engineer and en route in APC to a new base. They lost the APC in a bog and couldn't get it out. So they loaded what they could and headed since it was getting dark.
Once at camp, they set up and the Lt. realized they had left the coffee. He couldn't handle that and sent four guys back for the coffee. Of course Charlie was waiting for them and wasted two of them.
Two guys died and one wounded for *ucking coffee.
My prof spent 9 months in the jungle blowing up VC holes, and then they found out he was a great typist, so they sent him to HQ.

Almost all of the people who talk about or post "Nam stories" were never within ten thousand miles of there or even old enough to have been there. If you were, what's to talk about? Yeah, R&R in Bangkok was fun (thank god they hadn't invented AIDS yet), but the rest of it was just something to get through. You want war stories JT223, enlist.