Coconut Jackson
Jackson was the new guy. However, he acted as if he was still back on the block. You could not tell him anything. He was hardheaded. Thus, we called him Coconut. I mean, there was the Army way of doing things, and the Coconut Jackson way of doing things, and Coconut chose to do everything the Coconut Jackson way. The Army has a special name for that kind of soldier. (Fuck Up)
I had been in Vietnam about eight months by the time Coconut came along. I was the temporary squad leader (we had lost a lot of men in a battle). Well, Coconut just would not listen, so I took him on the enemy side of the perimeter and had a talk with him. I told him he was going to get himself killed. That if it came down to his life or one of the other guys, no one would choose him. Some of those guys did not play games and if he disobeyed the wrong person, he may be shot by one of his own. He straightened up some, at least around me.
Jackson was still not ready for primetime. He was always the one to mess up. Now when you messed up, you got to walk point on the jungle patrols. No one wanted to walk point. If there were any booby traps, the point man would set them off. Well, Coconut walked point most of the time. It was as if he enjoyed it. By the time I left Vietnam, Coconut had been wounded about seven times. The wounds were never bad enough to get out of country or to stay in hospital very long, but wounded just the same. I think he had seven purple hearts (Which you get if you are wounded in combat).
The last time he was wounded that I know of, he was walking point and using a machete to cut his way through the jungle. He tripped a booby trap and wound up with shrapnel in his ass. We were in the jungle and the canopy was too thick for a helicopter to land. Therefore, they sent down a rope with a seat attached to it, and the last time I saw Coconut he was seated on his wounded ass and screaming at the top of his lungs, as the crew of the helicopter was pulling him up on the rope. I looked around and every man in the unit was laughing. It was hard not to laugh. I was wounded and sent home* before Coconut came back to the unit. Live and learn; learn and live.
*That’s another story
I had been in Vietnam about eight months by the time Coconut came along. I was the temporary squad leader (we had lost a lot of men in a battle). Well, Coconut just would not listen, so I took him on the enemy side of the perimeter and had a talk with him. I told him he was going to get himself killed. That if it came down to his life or one of the other guys, no one would choose him. Some of those guys did not play games and if he disobeyed the wrong person, he may be shot by one of his own. He straightened up some, at least around me.
Jackson was still not ready for primetime. He was always the one to mess up. Now when you messed up, you got to walk point on the jungle patrols. No one wanted to walk point. If there were any booby traps, the point man would set them off. Well, Coconut walked point most of the time. It was as if he enjoyed it. By the time I left Vietnam, Coconut had been wounded about seven times. The wounds were never bad enough to get out of country or to stay in hospital very long, but wounded just the same. I think he had seven purple hearts (Which you get if you are wounded in combat).
The last time he was wounded that I know of, he was walking point and using a machete to cut his way through the jungle. He tripped a booby trap and wound up with shrapnel in his ass. We were in the jungle and the canopy was too thick for a helicopter to land. Therefore, they sent down a rope with a seat attached to it, and the last time I saw Coconut he was seated on his wounded ass and screaming at the top of his lungs, as the crew of the helicopter was pulling him up on the rope. I looked around and every man in the unit was laughing. It was hard not to laugh. I was wounded and sent home* before Coconut came back to the unit. Live and learn; learn and live.
*That’s another story
posted by 7horses | Tuesday, June 21, 2005
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