[Penn]

Chapter 3


Processed into my new unit, the 3rd of the 16th Arty, I would then be assigned to either LZ West, Bronco, or Liz with C Battery once I reached my units base in Duc Pho. I was hoping to go by convoy, thinking that Kevin would be on the route, and I could ride with him, but was transported by shark tooth painted helicopter, my first, to Duc Pho.

I was the only passenger, along with some cargo and a crew of 4, two pilots, crew chief and a door gunner. Somewhere over Quang Ngai providence, the door gunner checked fired his M-60 machine gun. Sliding over the floor of the slick, I looked out the door to see what he was shooting at in the rice paddies below. There was nothing there except a farmer plowing a paddy with his buffalo. The gunner wasn’t aiming for the farmer, just checking his weapon he said, but I could see the rounds splash 100 feet from the farmer.

Arriving in the early evening in Duc Pho, I am met at the LZ, checked in and then escorted to my temporary “Hooch,” which contain just one cot, a rather unusual arrangement, when I mentioned that, the company clerk notes its temporary that I’ll be moving to one of the LZ’s tomorrow, to relax and get some sleep.

Laying on the cot, I review the past few days, the hurry up and wait, Kevin, and the mind-blowing trip to Charlies, the food and those two women. The experience a dreamscape, I fall into a deep sleep.

Unconscious, I am blown off my cot by a huge explosion, Bewildered, scared, insensible, I run for the door screaming “incoming” “Incoming”, while I am running, trying to remember where the bunker is located, looking left and right in pure panic, out of my mind, filled with fear. It’s then that I hear the howling and see men on the ground withering with, not wounds, but laughter, laughing hysterically, chocking for air laughter, pissing in your pants laughter. laughter with tears rolling down your cheeks laughter.

Partially deaf from the explosion, confused and disoriented, I’m in a state of incomprehensiveness, what is happening I’m screaming, which causes my future team mates to enter another level of hysteria. Their frenzy only abates, when I gain control of my emotions, realizing the jokes on me.

The welcome “Hooch” was purposefully set up under a M-110, a tank like mechanized gun/cannon, which shot a 200-pound shell up to 15 miles from base with devastating results.
Every night, directly over the roof of the Hooch, the gun had fire missions in support of troops in the field, affording my bored team mates the rare occasion to break their monotony with an initiation ritual that ensured permanent tinnitus, sensitivity to sound, and that there were no rules.

The next day I was on LZ Liz, a week later sent to back to LZ Bronco, and then LZ Professional. One week after that, with almost a month in-country, our unit was deactivated, and I was left without orders on LZ Bronco, alone, with no command and a year to go. A year that would fundamentally transform me and impact all my future decisions.