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- = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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- War is Hell
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-
- During my "tour of duty" in Vietnam, which lasted for 364
- days - 14 hours - and 7 minutes, I lived a lifetime. So much
- happened in that short period of time that sometimes, it becomes
- mind boggling. Going to Vietnam at 18 years old was a
- tremendous culture shock. The acclimation and adaptation process
- was so swift that a young man could literally go from his room
- at home to a "fire-fight" in the bush, in less than 24 hours.
- The culture shock was complicated by the nature of the
- circumstances upon their arrival. For the guys assigned to
- combat units in the field, their introduction to Vietnam was
- the most traumatic. Often thrust into an area of V.C. and or
- N.V.A. activity. They were literally forced to assimilate the
- multitude of nuances as a requiem for survival. Your prior
- training was essentially useless. Jungle life and guerrilla
- warfare were primitive, barbaric, and the antithesis of American
- lifestyles and culture. A F.N.G. didn't lose that label until
- they earned their worth. The unwritten rule was, a new guy's
- life wasn't worth as much as a combat vet. To gain your comrades
- respect, you had to be "baptized under fire". In the bush,
- your "buddies" were your key to survival. Everyone needed to
- know that their "backs were covered" at all times. Therefore,
- trust was a key ingredient. How you handled the "small stuff"
- (the heat, rain, mud, bugs, rats, snakes, bad food and water)
- and how you responded in a "fire-fight" were the prevailing
- criteria.
-
- My "baptism by fire" occurred on my second day in the Nam.
- When you first arrive, you count the days "in". Towards the
- end of your "tour", you count backwards. How many days are
- left. After experiencing and surviving my "initiation", it
- was decided that I would be groomed to "walk point". Perhaps
- because of my size, and athletic abilities, I was chosen. In
- reality, it was because I was an F.N.G.. The man that walks
- point is the one that is at the highest risk. They are vulnerable
- to snipers, ambushes, trip-wires, and booby traps. Their primary
- function is to lead the troops through the jungle with the least
- amount of losses. The pressure on the point man was incredible
- and the responsibility was to your buddies. If they were wounded
- in action (W.I.A.) or killed in action (K.I.A.), subconsciously,
- it became your burden. A point man needed total control,
- concentration, good instincts, and a lot of luck. This was
- strictly an on-the-job, learn as-you-go process, mistakes were
- always costly. A point man had to develop a "skill" and a "sixth
- sense" for the jungle, an "intimate relationship", if you will.
- My first "op" (operation or mission) was a basic "search and
- destroy" mission. We were to "hump" the bush in a pre-designated
- area of operations (A.O.) to find the elusive V.C.. We
- transversed several "klicks" (kilometers), through thick, hot,
- wet, steamy, triple canopy jungle. Dealing with the elements
- would in time become the "small stuff" you learned to disregard.
-
- I was walking right behind the point man. My heart was
- in my mouth. I didn't know where we were going, or what (who?)
- we were looking for. The jungle was hot and my ruck sack was
- heavy and digging the straps into my shoulder blades. Suddenly,
- shots rang out and all hell broke loose. We walked into an
- ambush. This was my first experience in a fire-fight, what
- grunts called a "mad-minute". Everything was happening so fast,
- time was a blur. Bullets were coming out of the jungle at such
- an intense rate, I thought we would all die. After a while,
- we received orders to "hold our positions" until the size and
- extent of the fortifications of the enemy had been accessed.
- There was a temporary lull in the fighting, and we were ordered
- to move ahead while additional units were called in to "flank
- our positions". The strategy was simple. We were to force
- the enemy out of their bunkers and as they began our retreat,
- our artillery (from base camp) or assault choppers would "finish
- the job". Simple strategy theoretically, but realistically,
- we had tremendous difficulty. As soon as we began to advance,
- they began to intensify the assault. Guys were getting hit,
- screaming for a medic, while others walked into booby traps
- and anti-personnel mines. The carnage was mounting and there
- I was, praying real hard. It's amazing how close one gets to
- God when your life is on the line. Suddenly, one of our guys
- near me jumps up to throw a "frag" (fragmentation grenade).
- He takes several hits to his chest and stomach and goes down,
- near me. He's alive, but just barely. I know I've got to save
- him. I crawl over to him, take off my ruck and begin to apply
- compression bandages to his wounds, all the while, screaming
- for the medic. But there would be no medic, too much "incoming"
- fire and too many wounded. Eventually, the fighting slowed
- down and the wounded were tended to. And eventually, evac'd
- out (medical evacuation by chopper). I never knew who he was
- or if he ever survived. The ground where he laid was saturated
- with his blood. I was covered with mud, blood, and his "guts".
- My baptism by fire was etched into my brain forever. It is
- as vivid today as it was on that day. It was common to hear
- the Vets say that "survival" was the only thing you had to
- do in Nam. I was beginning to understand what they meant.
-
-
- Brooklyn of AoC
-
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