The Day Begins

Jack awoke from his usual troubled sleep. Long Distance had tapped his shoulder with a cleaning rod to prod him into wakefulness. It was still dark in an opaque night that draped the unit in inky velvet. He would have the next to last watch before waking the captain.

Jack could see nothing, but was constantly battling the mosquitos. Occasionally, he would see the flashing green and yellow phosphors trace an insect’s path. The perimeter was so dark that they seemed to play on a giant Imax screen undisturbed by other lights. Jack was somewhat mesmerized by them which acted to keep him awake.

Every thirty minutes, he would hear TOC ask for a sitrep by breaking squelch twice. The sound of Jack’s pressing the squelch button seemed to him as incredibly loud though, in truth, it was lost a yard beyond him.

The captain, without being prodded, took the last watch as the pale hint of light began to emerge on the NDP. Jack reached for his C ration cook can, inserted a C4 pellet and heated a cup of instant coffee and Swiss Miss. This was the beginning of just another day.

They had been operating in the edge of the A Shau mountains where the high hills met the descending Plaine. It was heavy, painful slogging. The ground was alternatingly open high Kunai Grass with 12 foot razor sharp stems to the deeper humid and leech filled jungle on the steep screed.

Each day was a routine of patrolling, mechanical ambushes, physical ambushes and the constant anxiety and stress of a place where the NVA often outnumbered them. The captain moved the unit with caution and was mindful of their physical and mental condition.

By early afternoon, they moved to the selected NDP and put out the Claymores and trip flares of the perimeter. Each morning, they would gather them back. If a Mechanical had detonated in the night, morning found a platoon carefully scouring the now blackened and burned site.

If they reported to Jack numerous blood trails and a fresh high speed hard pack, the captain would move the company tightly dispersed, cautiously patrolling the newly disrupted area. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Sleep was always fitful, especially if they knew the NVA were close by or a Mechanical ambush had been triggered. Under the best of circumstances, a troop might get a constantly interrupted two hours of sleep. The ground, the night life and internal anxiety acted to mitigate rest.

Hygiene was reduced to the lowest level achievable. Some troops would attempt to brush their teeth and wipe their face with a Drive-On rag but that was about it. The captain understood this and would take the opportunity to use a stream or pond they found. Men would lie in the stream fully clothed, partially submerged just to feel the joy of cool water and the current.

Cigarettes and snuff were commonly used-cigarettes only under special circumstances such as log day. The result was that most teeth and gums were heavily stained and large deposits of creamy ivory-colored material collected on them. Everyone smelled universally bad so everyone smelled nothing.

Jack had learned to savor the rare quiet times when the unit was halted for an extended period, especially if next to a stream with its damp coolness. He could take off the radio, stretch, open his shirt and wipe himself with his OD towel and then lay it against the ruck to partially dry. The blood would return to his shoulders and he could move his arms over his head to stretch.

For the first time, he could see the entire unit rather than the huge image of Long Distance walking in front. It was almost a vacation.

The command to “Ruck Up” broke the momentary reverie. Jack would put the straps through his arms, twist until it was on his back like as a saddle, place both hands on his rifle and pull himself to a half standing position.

Shortly, the command group would gather in file and begin to move. It was akin to a file of laden mules, moving to the next same place. Jack and the others were aware there was a larger war. But the only one that counted was this. Just another day in Vietnam.