“We used to do this on Okinawa. Just get in the jeep and ride all over the island. It was fun.”
“It was that. But one thing is different here though.”
“What’s that, Dan?”
“On Okinawa they didn’t shoot at you or try to blow you up if you made a mistake.”
“True. Very true. I’ll try to remember that in the future.”
The first sign of change since they had entered the jungle was the many potholes and diminishing amount of paving on the road.
“This is strange don’t you think Rich? The road getting bad and wetter for no observable reason.”
When they went through a series of curves the jungle on both sides of the road became thinner and the paving on the road disappeared completely. The surface of the road was muddier but still passable even though the pavement had been replaced by a an inch or so of gray slimy mud. The only vehicle they had met on their passage down the road was a Vietnamese bus. A low slung van in reality. There were openings along both sides that had at one time held windows, approached them head on going way too fast and spraying dark gray muddy water in all directions. All the interior seats were taken with three and four small Vietnamese in seats designed for two people and several were hanging out both the right front side and rear door openings. Dan caught a quick look of the passengers and cargo as Richie jerked the jeep’s steering wheel and drove into the jungle bushes on the right side of the narrow road barely being missed by the Vietnamese kamikaze driver. Green brush flew and both Seabees ducked into the center of their open jeep to avoid some of the larger branches that snapped and sprung across the sides of the open vehicle.
“Jesus Christ!” Richie the non-swearing midwestern swore, as he fought the jeep, getting it under control, out of the jungle and back onto the muddy road where they stopped. “I’ll kill that idiot if Buddha doesn’t get him first!” He exclaimed.
“A little agitated are we?” Dan asked his friend.
“These people crack me up. When they travel they take their chickens, ducks, pigs and all the vegetables they can carry. I got a hop in a C130 out of Da Nang for Chu Lai that the Marines were transporting a whole village south in. They were from the area of Monkey Mountain going to some so called safe areas and the villagers were carrying all the worldly possessions that they could carry. Even though they were told to only take personal things.
I guess they figured their animals were personal possessions.”
“Nobody told them they couldn’t take that stuff on the aircraft?” Richie asked.
“I don’t think that any of the loadmasters or crew chiefs had the heart to make them leave anything behind.
I did see a loadmaster buy a pig from one of the villagers so the aircraft crew could have a luau with their girl friends.”
After throwing a few leaves and broken branches out of the jeep they again started down the road traveling only several yards around another curve when the jungle disappeared completely and a village appeared on their right. The usual rice paddies dominated the flat land surrounding the village of a dozen or so hooches along a narrow road built on top of a levee barely higher than the paddies.
Richie continued along slowly as both Seabees took in the sights. “I remember this village.” Richie proclaimed. “All this water on the road is coming from the dredging of the harbor. They’re filling in the next bunch of rice paddies a short way up the road so they can build some kind of military facility.” No sooner had he told Dan this when they made it around a shallow curve in the road and the barren, gray muddy waste of mud and dirty gray, almost black water came into view. On the left of the muddy road full of ankle deep puddles was the light brown colored water at the mouth of the Perfume River running into a small bay. The bay’s water was clean, a blueish green and smelled of the sea. A salt water bay. On the banks overlooking the bay sat a picturesque village of twenty or more thatch roofed houses. Scattered along the shoulders of the village’s two narrow dirt streets were banana and mango trees. The streets that ran parallel to the shoreline, had been recently sweep clean and two boys of ten or twelve were herding a flock of white ducks down the road which was built on top of a levee that protected the village from high tides and wind driven storms. After they passed the village a better view of the dredge filled paddies and fields where a huge 36 inch steel pipe ran from the bay into the center of the latest filled spot of desecration. The pipe’s huge mouth was dry and the small knoll of mud that had formed around it appeared to be dry also
Looking down the mud and water covered road Dan could make out a small group of buildings of different construction but was still too far away to see distinctly. A large hybrid Vietnamese/French style house was on the right of the road surrounded by the muddy dregs of the fill. The house was built off the ground about a story and a half. At first Dan thought it was deserted until they drove closer and he could see several Marine Corp amtrak trails running from the road and across where there used to be a driveway leading under the house. In the dark shade of the house’s underside sat the amtrak. On the veranda that surrounded the house several Marines were laying around in the shade of the veranda
About two hundred yards further down the road Dan could see most of the structures that had him wondering about them for several minutes. Dominate on the roadside was a double tiered sandbag bunker and a tall wooden framed concertina wire gate. The tin roof of a typical new Seabee built hooch showed above a flat bed military 6x that was parked in front of it. On the opposite, left side of the compound was a Vietnamese type building that had been repaired in true Seabee fashion. Gable ends had been added to its front facing the compound and louvers added in typical Seabee fashion. The building also had a plywood addition built onto its right side with a lean-to style roof. The hooch and lean-to both had new sheet metal roofing. Next on the same side of the compound and tucked back away from any other building Dan could see as they drew nearer was a flat roofed box shaped concrete structure with a short wooden ladder going up to a sandbag bunker on the roof. There appeared to be only a front door which was shorter, but wider than a normal door. Center and set a bit back from the concrete building and Seabee built hooch was a tall thatch roofed Vietnamese house with normal windows and a heavy Seabee built door of 2 layers of 1” thick marine plywood,centered on the front.
Richie drove the jeep through the open gate of the Seabee compound and parked off to one side opposite the flatbed truck in front of the small concrete building that had a bright red cross painted on a stray piece of plywood and hung above the door with a piece of comm wire which ran back into the sandbags of the rooftop bunker to hold it in place. Dan could see that the compound was dry and neat with a buildup of crushed rock and gravel. The only mud was where the trucks and other equipment tires had brought it onto the gravel. Completely surrounding the compound was concertina wire. It was three coils high. Two coils wide at the bottom and middle. The third coil was single, centered on top of the middle two coils. Obvious, were the illumination grenades wired into the center of the bottom outside coil every few feet.
The door of the thatch roofed hooch opened and a medium height , sandy haired figure in Seabee greens stepped out of the hooch.
That is not a Seabee. He’s too clean. His hair is too long. His blouse is not tucked in and the brass on it is not polished nor painted black.
With a nice smile and self assured walk he walked towards Dan and Richie. On his collar points were second class chevrons that had Corpsmen caduceus on them.
“Hi, need some coffee after that treacherous drive from Gia Le? I’d offer you a beer, but we don’t drink until after work.
As you can see I’m Becker, the detachment’s Doc.” Pointing at his name tag on his untucked, unbuttoned blouse.
“The Chief’s down on the causeway and probably won’t be in until 1600 or so and the rest of the crew is scattered all up and down the road and over on the island.. I kno
w one of you, Davis is it” Holding out his hand to both Seabees in turn. “will be staying with us for a while? You staying the night Frasier? If so we can find you a bunk in with the Chief. The new hooch has a couple empty bunks and truthfully it’s the cleanest and most comfortable spot we have. The old generator building is my sick bay and humble abode.
I have a spare bunk if you want Davis. It gets lonesome sometimes especially in the evenings when everybody has settled in with their paperbacks or card games.”
“It’s Dan.” Taking Doc’s offered hand.” And I’m not much for card games or the conversations that go with them either. I’d like to share your humble abode with you. Also blood and needles don’t bother me much so if you need some help just ask me.”
“Good. You got a deal, Dan Davis.
I do have to warn you, the ammo storage for the outpost is primarily under our bunks. We have several hundred M79 rounds but nobody has an M79. Also 5 or 6,000 M-60 rounds. We do have an M-60 though.
Here let me help you take your gear and stuff into sick bay.
I hope you’re not claustrophobic. This was built for a generator and had two windows which we filled up with sandbags then covered them inside and out with plywood so the only opening is the door.
I’m guessing that your defensive position will be the sandbag bunker on top of sickbay and your job will be to babysit me.”
If your into it, we have a couple places to go swimming. The closest is out on the LCU ramp next to the causeway and if you like surf you can go over on the island. It has great sandy beaches and big waves.
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