May 23, 1968
The explosion lifted the Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) up in the front and turned it over on its top. Hendricks on the fifty-caliber was thrown clear and not hurt. Mitchell was blown out of the drivers-hole, and his mouth hit metal on the way out, shattering his jaw, but he would be okay. The new guy, was thrown clear but twisted his ankle when he landed. I was hurt the worst. My squad was down to just the four of us, after we had lost several men in firefights, and booby trap incidents. It was May 23, 1967, I had been in the Army exactly one year and in South Vietnam for eight months of that year. I’ll never forget that day.
May 23, 1968 was the worst day of my life and the best day of my life. * My Platoon had been out all day long looking for a Viet Cong base camp that was suspected to be in the area. We were traveling on a two-wheel water buffalo-cart trail. We were in a long convoy of about twenty APCs. My APC was third from the end of the convoy. As we were going along and after we had passed a village, someone opened fire on us and we responded. I think the shooting had been a diversion because it stopped almost as soon as it started.
The Captain called back on the walkie-talkie and directed the last three APC's back to the village to set up a blockade, while the rest of the soldiers swept through the jungle on foot. The plan worked, a woman in black came running out of the jungle into the village. I yelled at the woman, “La Dai, which is supposed to mean come here” But she didn’t stop. The new man on my APC, said, “Shoot her man, shoot her!” I knew better, you just didn’t want to shoot an innocent. I thought at the time that she might have been just a local, out taking a crap. We jumped down and chased her into the village, but she had too much of a lead on us, and we lost her.
About that time, we were directed to get back on the trail. As we pulled back into position, I jump down inside the APC to get everyone a coke.(We could carry cokes, beer and water in a cooler. If we were in a secure base camp the helicopters would even bring us blocks of ice,) I came back up on top and passed everyone a coke (We were out of beer). It was about 110 degrees and we were thirsty. I popped the top on my coke, and that’s when the mine exploded under the engine of the APC. I was thrown off, but the APC came over on top of me, trapping me under all of the ammo, C-rations and everything else inside the APC that slammed down on top of my back. I was on my stomach and I felt what I thought was blood pouring out of my head onto my left hand. It turned out to be hot motor oil, and when I realized what it was, I move my face out of the way, before it was burned. I tried to move my arm and hand out of the way also, but I was trapped. My left hand was frying in the oil. The medic crawled up under the APC and gave me a shot of something for the pain. Somehow, they got the APC off me and put me in a helicopter (chopper). I remember the pain in my hand when the wind from the chopper blade hit it. Then I passed out.
When I woke up again I was in hospital in Saigon, with a Purple Heart medal pinned to my pillow and my left hand wrapped in a big bandage. I stayed in the hospital at Saigon for about three days. To my knowledge no one ever changed the bandage on my hand. I was so thirsty (remember I never even got a sip of that coke), but they would not give me a drink of water. They didn’t know if I had internal injuries or not; so no water.
Hendricks and Mitchell came to see me in the hospital. They would be going back to the war. Mitchell ‘s jaw was wired together and he would be in the hospital a while. I was being sent to Tokyo, Japan. I guess they drugged me, because the next time I woke up I was in a helicopter circling over the city of Tokyo. The city was beautiful, but that’s all I would see of it. Then I blanked out again.
I came to, in the hospital on a gurney and was being wheeled into the burn ward. I looked up and there was a sign that read, “WECOME TO THE CRISPY CRITTERS”. Then I looked around and all of the patients were burned, most from head to toe. It was awful. The two hospital attendants wheeled me over to a bed and said, “Okay, hop in”. That’s when I realized, I COULD NOT MOVE FROM THE WAIST DOWN! ”Oh, you got a back injury”, one of the hospital aids said, “we need to get you up to the head and back ward”.
I was happy to be leaving the burn ward, but some of the guys on the neurosurgical ward were pretty messed up also. They got me in a bed and then the pain began. A nurse came and unwrapped my left hand. The bandage came off , but so did some on my skin. I cried. My hand was frozen into a claw. I took one look and told them to cut it off and give me one of those hooks (Yes, I was feeling self-pity). To get to the point, my hand was saved and works well today, and only looks like an old man’s hand. It took weeks of whirlpool, physical therapy and a new drug cream called sulfurmylon to bring my hand back to almost normal.
The real problem, was my back, I was paralyzed from the waist down. The doctor came in and told me that he could operate and I would have a 50/50 chance of walking, or it might make it worse. “Or”, he said, “We could leave it alone and it may come back on its own”. I opted for the “wait and see” choice. After about three weeks, I felt something when the nurse came around for her daily pin stick in the bottom of my feet. From that point on I made slow but steady progress on the road back to walking.
I was then sent home to the U.S. in a cargo plane. I mean the plane was loaded from bottom to top with wounded soldiers on stretchers. There was only a few inches between each man, talk about claustrophobia. That was my return flight home from Vietnam. I was lucky. My hand healed, my back healed, I walk with a limp, but I walk. I had a few nightmares about Vietnam, but I did not lose my humanity. Live and learn; learn and live.
*Yes, May 23, 1968 was the worst day of my life and the best day of my life. It was the worst day, because of the pain, but the best day because I knew I was going home.
May 23, 1968 was the worst day of my life and the best day of my life. * My Platoon had been out all day long looking for a Viet Cong base camp that was suspected to be in the area. We were traveling on a two-wheel water buffalo-cart trail. We were in a long convoy of about twenty APCs. My APC was third from the end of the convoy. As we were going along and after we had passed a village, someone opened fire on us and we responded. I think the shooting had been a diversion because it stopped almost as soon as it started.
The Captain called back on the walkie-talkie and directed the last three APC's back to the village to set up a blockade, while the rest of the soldiers swept through the jungle on foot. The plan worked, a woman in black came running out of the jungle into the village. I yelled at the woman, “La Dai, which is supposed to mean come here” But she didn’t stop. The new man on my APC, said, “Shoot her man, shoot her!” I knew better, you just didn’t want to shoot an innocent. I thought at the time that she might have been just a local, out taking a crap. We jumped down and chased her into the village, but she had too much of a lead on us, and we lost her.
About that time, we were directed to get back on the trail. As we pulled back into position, I jump down inside the APC to get everyone a coke.(We could carry cokes, beer and water in a cooler. If we were in a secure base camp the helicopters would even bring us blocks of ice,) I came back up on top and passed everyone a coke (We were out of beer). It was about 110 degrees and we were thirsty. I popped the top on my coke, and that’s when the mine exploded under the engine of the APC. I was thrown off, but the APC came over on top of me, trapping me under all of the ammo, C-rations and everything else inside the APC that slammed down on top of my back. I was on my stomach and I felt what I thought was blood pouring out of my head onto my left hand. It turned out to be hot motor oil, and when I realized what it was, I move my face out of the way, before it was burned. I tried to move my arm and hand out of the way also, but I was trapped. My left hand was frying in the oil. The medic crawled up under the APC and gave me a shot of something for the pain. Somehow, they got the APC off me and put me in a helicopter (chopper). I remember the pain in my hand when the wind from the chopper blade hit it. Then I passed out.
When I woke up again I was in hospital in Saigon, with a Purple Heart medal pinned to my pillow and my left hand wrapped in a big bandage. I stayed in the hospital at Saigon for about three days. To my knowledge no one ever changed the bandage on my hand. I was so thirsty (remember I never even got a sip of that coke), but they would not give me a drink of water. They didn’t know if I had internal injuries or not; so no water.
Hendricks and Mitchell came to see me in the hospital. They would be going back to the war. Mitchell ‘s jaw was wired together and he would be in the hospital a while. I was being sent to Tokyo, Japan. I guess they drugged me, because the next time I woke up I was in a helicopter circling over the city of Tokyo. The city was beautiful, but that’s all I would see of it. Then I blanked out again.
I came to, in the hospital on a gurney and was being wheeled into the burn ward. I looked up and there was a sign that read, “WECOME TO THE CRISPY CRITTERS”. Then I looked around and all of the patients were burned, most from head to toe. It was awful. The two hospital attendants wheeled me over to a bed and said, “Okay, hop in”. That’s when I realized, I COULD NOT MOVE FROM THE WAIST DOWN! ”Oh, you got a back injury”, one of the hospital aids said, “we need to get you up to the head and back ward”.
I was happy to be leaving the burn ward, but some of the guys on the neurosurgical ward were pretty messed up also. They got me in a bed and then the pain began. A nurse came and unwrapped my left hand. The bandage came off , but so did some on my skin. I cried. My hand was frozen into a claw. I took one look and told them to cut it off and give me one of those hooks (Yes, I was feeling self-pity). To get to the point, my hand was saved and works well today, and only looks like an old man’s hand. It took weeks of whirlpool, physical therapy and a new drug cream called sulfurmylon to bring my hand back to almost normal.
The real problem, was my back, I was paralyzed from the waist down. The doctor came in and told me that he could operate and I would have a 50/50 chance of walking, or it might make it worse. “Or”, he said, “We could leave it alone and it may come back on its own”. I opted for the “wait and see” choice. After about three weeks, I felt something when the nurse came around for her daily pin stick in the bottom of my feet. From that point on I made slow but steady progress on the road back to walking.
I was then sent home to the U.S. in a cargo plane. I mean the plane was loaded from bottom to top with wounded soldiers on stretchers. There was only a few inches between each man, talk about claustrophobia. That was my return flight home from Vietnam. I was lucky. My hand healed, my back healed, I walk with a limp, but I walk. I had a few nightmares about Vietnam, but I did not lose my humanity. Live and learn; learn and live.
*Yes, May 23, 1968 was the worst day of my life and the best day of my life. It was the worst day, because of the pain, but the best day because I knew I was going home.
posted by 7horses | Tuesday, June 21, 2005
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