Some people call them war stories. I like to call them God stories for there but for the grace of God I go.

Having just returned from a three day hiatus in the field as a forward observer, the officer called me into his bunker. After discussing the last mission, he announces we’re moving out the next morning and that I’d be walking point. A seemingly reasonable statement apart from the fact that there are three squads in our platoon and my squad was the last on patrol.

As walking point put so much added pressure on the pint man, in this case me, you never walked point two days in a row, I expressed my displeasure to the officer but to no avail. His only answer was, we’re going into a hot fire zone and we know they’re there. You’re the best man I have.

The next morning we were choppered into an open field. Upon gaining the wood line we not only found their resting area, but warm coals too. They were definitely in the area.

We proceeded to move up the ridgeline with me, much to my chagrin, walking point. Our mission, to sweep the area and meet up with another unit by nightfall. Needless to say we moved at a slow deliberate pace, very much on hight alert.

About two hours into the mission, the officer ordered a rest, As we are on a ridgeline, we break off in different directions, securing our area. I move off to the left, into the treelike about thirty feet off the trail.

All of a sudden, all hell breaks loose as shots are fired to the rear. What appears to be a lone Viet Song has shot our drag man. We clear the area, call for a Medivac and move him out. 

The ironic part of this whole ordeal is as part of the security element, if I didn’t walk point, I usually walk drag. I lost the battle with my officer but by the grace of God, won the war.

Some people call them war stories. I like to call them God stories for there but for the grace of God I go. 

Our reconnaissance unit was sent out to locate any supply routes or troop movement routes in the area. Two teams went out and set up for the night overlooking a heavily used trail. All was quiet on the front that night. Reporting back the next morning the officer suggested a different location and we proceeded to set up deep in the fork of the trail wth only elephant grass and a few three-inch twigs for cover.

It may have been quiet the previous night but that all changed about two AM. All of a sudden it was as bright as day. The enemy had punctured an oil pipeline and the whole valley was lit up with a hundred thousand candle power light. I called in on the radio and the officer realizing the gravity of the situation took over the radio and proceeded to simply ask yes/no questions and had me break squelch to answer.

They were either high on drugs or rice wine or excited from blowing the pipeline because they were very loud and jovial as they passed us, It was a godly number that went down the road. By my guess, forty, fifty or more. After what seemed like forever they finally passed and we could settle in. If any of us had sneezed who knows what would have happened.

Woke up the next morning to a new set of orders. Follow that trail and see where it goes. Having guessed the size of the enemy unit and knowing the size of my unit, I was not too happy. Following the trail for about half a mile, we came upon a huge open field with the trail crossing it into the tree line on the other side. I didn’t feel comfortable crossing it so I radioed in and my officer agreed.

Heading back we got a little bit careless and broke what would be our usual formation with security out on the flanks. All of a sudden a helicopter flew over us, which I found out later was a Major trying to follow the trail. A yellow smoke grenade hit the ground and I assumed he did not like our formation, or lack of such, so I moved my troops out on the double while regaining a proper formation.

Getting back to the rest of the unit my officer chewed me out saying the Major had radioed him about the yellow grenade and why had I thrown it? I told my officer it couldn’t have been me as I only have red and green grenades for hot or safe landing zones.

It was then I realized, if the chopper didn’t drop it and I didn’t drop it, how close to an ambush we had been. The Viet Cong would gladly have given up, killing a few grunts like us to down the chopper and officer.

There but for the grace of God, go I. 

While the happenings leading up to the specific incident were a bit breath taking, the incident itself literally took my breath away.

Our reconnaissance unit had been sent out for the purpose of locating enemy supply routes and with them any storage areas. ON the second day we had some success and found a couple of pooches filled with rice.

We set up a headquarters area and proceeded to pull a sweep to secure the area for a landing zone. While sweeping the area we ran into fire from the enemy who seemed to take offense to our possessing their rice.

Having to withdraw from the sweep, we returned to a defensive position where we had set up our headquarters to wait it out. After sending out a couple of feelers, it was determined to again sweep the area around the field selected to be our Landing Zone.

As the units “short timer” I chose to stay back with the radio and a small group to secure our headquarter site. As the sweep moved out I proceeded to find a relatively safe spot behind a huge ant hill just at the edge of the clearing. 

All was well, for a spell. Long before the sweep was due back I started hearing noises coming from the field beyond my ant hill. It was a rustling in the waist high grass that caught my attention. I can’t yell to the others with me as I would give my location away so I guess I’ll just sit and wait it out.

As time passes, the noise gets closer and louder. Three, four, five of them? Can’t tell much but can’t blow my cover either. It just keeps coming closer.

You finally get to the point, its them or me. If they come upon me, I’m dead. I need to act rather than react.

I take my M-16 and put it on auto. I grab a second magazine of ammo. With a little bit of luck I can catch them off guard and reload. OK, take a deep breath and lets go.

I leap from behind the ant hill and catch them completely off guard. Just then four or five turkeys, making a deafening roar with their wings, take off in front of me,

I tell you only my launderer can tell you how I felt at that point. As my heart sank into my boots I couldn’t even pull the trigger and have turkey for supper.

Enough said.