THE SMELL
THE SMOKE SMELLED BAD--KINDA!
John Wilborn Fri Aug 18 06:19:05 Recently I related this story to Bill B.--along
with another frightening yarn--Bill thought this story was alright to share, but
the other was just downright bad--the statue of limitations had never or would
never expire--I recently told this story to Mike L.--Mike, you won't be shocked
or sickened again.
In April 1969 on Hill 327 South of DaNang RVN an event occurred--probably no
different than many others that had happened to the thousands of Americans
fighting in that tiny, divided and war-torn country. Hill 327 was divided up
for defensive purposes--it was shared by the Navy, Air Force, Marines, and the
ARVN. One night Viet Cong sappers (commandos) threw explosive satchel charges
into the concertina wire and attempted to breech our line to throw more sachel
charges into bunkers or fighting positions. Our interlocking fields of fire
brought the invaders into a cone of unimiaginable hell--our heavy fifty caliber
thudded away for a seemingly long period of time--too long but ammo was
plentiful--the barrel wasn't melting down, and excited men overreact--scared men
do also. The melodrama being played out was like a well lighted stage--our own
mortar crews had fired 81 mike-mike illumination rounds that floated slowly down
into the area all the guys referred to as Happy Valley.
Next morning after sunrise myself, several officers and two fire teams went down
to the "slaughterhouse".
The Vietnamese are small of stature but there wasn't anything left to
measure--you know to record if you wanted to say, "wow, this sapper unit was a
whole squad of giants"--no, not at all--there were torn and tattered remmants of
clothing--and things and 'stuff'--brownish red things and 'stuff--the big old
green blow flies was alight and feeding--maggots would arrive on the 'stuff'
within hours--my S-2 officer made the decision--I followed his orders and had
the fire teams get jerry cans of diesel fuel from the duece and a half
nearby--following a rapid check of the 'stuff' for intell purposes, fuel was
litterly splashed on the 'stuff' and lighted.
Some men vomited--most could and would not watch--those impressionable young men
of mine was someone's brothers, and husbands, and lovers--the stench of burning
remains was masked somewhat by the burning weeds and brush--not totally masked
however, for the burning flesh odor was not to different than oven smells for
your own meal preparation--I thought recently as I told Bill B. and Mike L.
this horrible story--that 'stuff' was also someones brother or husband or
lover--in fact there were rosary beads recovered along with several pencil drawn
maps--.
Wilborn sends
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