By Wayne Murphy

In February 1973 after my Vietnam tour, I was in command of a company at Fort Bragg, North Carolina – B Company 27^th Engineers (Combat) (Airborne).  It was a dream job and my unit had almost all volunteers – few draftees – as the war in Vietnam drew down.  We had very light weight engineer equipment and it was easily air lifted.

It was close to my birthday and apparently my lady was planning a surprise party. That month a once in a century snowstorm hit much of South Carolina.   

The South Carolina snow removal capability was very limited, and soon the central part of the state became immobilized.  Senator Strom Thurmond was a very influential member of congress and, while the National Guard was called up, he felt he wanted federal help.  So, the 18^th Airborne Corps sent some engineers – me and another Captain with a few troops.

Our mission initially was to rescue motorists stalled in the snow.  We had the Army’s Gamma Goat small truck and it had the ability to “swim” – the area we were tasked to work was in the old “Swamp Fox” world near Marion, SC.  A few Gamma Goats were air-lifted into Florence Airport along with us.  The helo hovered near the runway and we jumped from the tail gate of a Chinook helicopter at the airport into waist deep snow drifts.

We started along the highway and found most vehicles abandoned, with no one inside.  We did come across one with two young women and two young men.  They were dressed like hippies and had the peace necklaces, etc.  We told them we would take them to the National Guard Armory – but the guys wanted no part of a military rescue.  The girls did and got into the back of our Gamma Goat. In a few minutes the guys, shivering, did also. 

We also had some Huey choppers at our disposal, and they were to evacuate medical emergencies if necessary.  We got a call from local law enforcement that evacuation was needed at a farm and the crew responded.  Turns out the farmer was not in distress but always wanted to fly in a helicopter.  Upon landing at hospital pad, the sheriff deputies took charge.

Most folks along the road to Marion were rescued by the local farmers with their tractors – real heroes.

About the second day we were told to move to I-95.  It was at a standstill with abandoned cars causing grid lock.  South Carolina had borrowed one snow blower and plow from North Carolina, and it was working its way down the interstate.  The problems were the abandoned vehicles.  Bragg sent several 5-ton wreckers (large trucks with hoists) and some dozers on flatbeds.  We rendezvoused with them at Florence at sunset and moved south.

All night long we moved south clearing the abandoned vehicles by tossing them aside, allowing the snow removal equipment to get through.

About dawn on the third day, we were approaching the causeway over Lake Marion – the last section to clear.  The North Carolina crew wanted to stop and get some food and take a break.  They were not fond of our c-rations.  So, we detoured off a ramp where there were several motels. 

The folks were standing on balconies waving to us.  I thought this is how our troops liberating France might have been welcomed.  We were a sight as no one had really slept much or shaved for three days.

Right away I was confronted by a motel manager.  It seems the National Guard had dropped some food and supplies the day before but dropped them on another motel’s lot – and THAT manager would not share but wanted to sell it to others.  Turned the problem immediately over to the State Trooper we had with us.

As the day began, we worked the causeway – tossing cars left and right.  Only one that seemed happy was the local tow truck operator.  We did not use the dozers at all except near the end.  There was a tractor trailer that had badly slipped off the road, and its driver was a vet.  We hooked up wreckers and a dozer in tandem and got him back on the road.

There were many irate drivers and especially a few from Canada.  They could not understand how “a little snow” could paralyze the interstate.  Just then the real snow removal “equipment” arrived – the sun – and things really began to clear.

We packed up and convoyed back to Bragg.  My lady had a freezer filled with food for my surprise birthday party that never was.

     In the fall during the late 70s, I was assigned to the Corps of Engineers Pacific Ocean Division headquartered at Ft Shafter in Hawaii.  It was a great job as I was Assistant Chief of Engineering in a Division that had both military construction/maintenance and civil works (waterway, flood, and infrastructure) jurisdictions.  Our military scope included the Hawaiian Islands, Guam, Kwajalein, Japan and Korea for both the Army and Air Force.  Our civil works covered the Hawaiian Islands, Guam, Commonwealth of Marianas, American Samoa, Marshalls, and all related US entities in the Pacific.

     That fall the two presented a rather unique opportunity.  In Korea, the river through Seoul actually became the disputed border between North and South.  Incheon was a port just to the west.  The Korean government toyed with the idea of linking Seoul and Incheon by water.  A really tough project as the area in between was not exactly conducive to a canal. 

     In any case, my boss (a Korean-American) wanted to show the government what the US was capable of doing in canals and water projects.  There was a trip arranged to the US for the Korean Minister of Construction and two aides to view some of our efforts.  It would be two weeks touring the US and my boss nominated me to go along as their guide, chauffer, security, “gopher,” and host.  He really wanted to know everything that happened.

     And what a trip it was.  We started in DC meeting with the Chief of Engineers and some of my guided sightseeing (they really wanted to see Kennedy’s grave).  Then we went to NY Harbor on the Chief of Engineer’s plane to see harbor maintenance and ride the harbor patrol boats, back to DC for further briefings and on to Mississippi through Memphis to see the Tennessee -Tombigbee waterway (canal) under construction.  After which we went to Vicksburg and the Corps’ Waterways Experimentation Station (and its six labs), a flight over the lower Mississippi and its locks and dams, the New Orleans District and levee protection, the Columbia River dams (both Corps and Interior Department) from Spokane to Portland, a flight to Alaska District in Anchorage (included probably for fur shopping for their wives rather than real projects), and finally back to Oahu and meetings with my boss and the Division Engineer.

     Many adventures and stories were had on the journey but our trip to the Tennessee – Tombigbee project stands out for cultural reasons and really the most applicable for their interest.  This project was to cut 800 miles off for barge traffic connecting the Tennessee and Tombigbee rivers allowing access to the Gulf without going down the Mississippi.  It had quite the cut effort and had impressive lock construction.

     We flew from Memphis by small twin-engine plane run by Southeast Airlines.  When we rushed through the terminal late for our connection because of delays out of DC, only the pilot was there and I saw no plane at the gate.  It was there – a small twin-engine prop and we were the only passengers.  We went down some stairs and the Minister actually got to sit in the co-pilot seat.  He really liked that.

     The main Corps field headquarters was in Iuka, MS, the county seat it turns out.  The project was spectacular: moving more earth and making a cut larger than anything at the Panama Canal.  The project manager was something of a celebrity among the locals as the work provided quite the economic benefit and he played a great host.

     One evening he took the group out for their famous fried catfish at a restaurant built in an abandoned car dealership.  The problem right away – the catfish fryer was down.  He recommended we try the frog’s legs.  My Korean compatriots were appalled.  In Korea, the frogs were quite small, and they had not encountered our bullfrogs.  The idea of a meal from some tiny morsels was not what they wanted.  We explained using a statue near the entrance of a real bullfrog what he was recommending – more like chicken legs.  They enjoyed them.

     I should mention the Minister spoke good English, but only one of his aides spoke limited English.  I had built a decent relationship catering to their needs, and the non-English speaker had a good sense of humor.  Whenever he did not like, or understand something, during the rest of the trip he would lean over to me and say “rivet” – a reminder of our frog’s leg confusion.

     The next incident I could not explain to them no matter how hard I tried.  It was election day.  We had some time to sightsee, so we got the local sheriff to open up the old courthouse.  But he would help only after we assured the sheriff these men were our allied Koreans and not Chinese communists.  The building and the courtroom on the second floor reminded me of Spencer Tracy’s courtroom in “Inherit the Wind.”  They sat at the judge’s bench, banged the gavel and had a good time.

     Outside, we saw a polling place in something of a general store.  The local election folks were most welcoming, and they even allowed our Korean guests to see inside a voting booth. 

     I might explain that the government of South Korea at this time still had General Park at its head after a coup some years before.  Elections had a bit of a foregone conclusion aspect.  I was proud to show a free election in Iuka.

     Outside, the Minister called me aside. He said, “Now, I see truth in even your elections, only ONE candidate each office.”  He was right as this was the old Democrat south and there was only a single Democrat running for all the local offices.  I explained that this was not our national norm and that there were multiple candidates even in Iuka – in a primary at least. 

     He did not buy it.

End of Story

On Fire Base Rifle and along its access road work continued at a fair pace. 

     As time went on, we started to find some explosives along the road during sweeps and took harassing fire.  Usually an RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) or a few AK (communist rifle) rounds would be fired at the sweep team and the NVA would quickly disappear.  It was suggested that I “vary our times” for clearing the road by battalion.  It took an hour and half to sweep the road each day and it had to be open by 0900. 

BMNT (Beginning of Morning Nautical Twilight – when the first signs of light occur in the sky) was early but good light was about 0700 so we really could only vary by 30 minutes.  The NVA knew we would be at a point sometime within a 30-minute span – I did not get how that would help.  Division did get us some aerial support from the FLIR (forward looking infrared) aircraft.  It could tell if the earth had been disturbed (different temp) along the road.  Problem was we got the news rather late in the day – long after a sweep.

     In any case, the harassment fire continued.  One day when the other platoon was taking the sweep, the fire continued and did not break off.  We could hear the firefight about a click (km) away.  I went to the infantry support commander and asked that he help our guys out.  He told me he had orders to defend the hill and could not spare a man but would call for air.  My guys grabbed weapons and ammo and jumped in a ¾ ton dump truck and started down the hill on their own.  By the time they got to the sweep team, the enemy had broken contact and a pink team (LOH and Cobra Gunship) was overhead.

     We decided that the situation could not continue, and we needed to clear area away from the road.  We asked for and received one Rhome plow D7 dozer and operator from Corps.  It initially cleared jungle and trees back over 50 meters on each side of the road.  It unearthed some RPG rounds and plastic explosive.  The harassment stopped.

      Then, we started to get sniper fire on the hill.  As I walked with an NCO across the saddle one afternoon, I heard a loud pop above our heads followed by another from the ridge across from us.  Turns out we were taking some rounds.  A very weird experience to hear the double pops – explains why civilian witnesses often confuse the number of rounds fired.  The first is the sound of the round’s sonic wave as it passes; the second the sound of the weapon firing. You never heard the one that got you.  Again, a red team’s appearance silenced the enemy.

      The infantry inserted a platoon on the ridge to clean out the harassers. They worked down a finger of land on the ridge and came to a steep cliff.  When they started to go back, the point man hit a booby trap that blew off his legs. Apparently, what we called “trail watchers” (NVA who followed US units and harassed and wounded guys) were stalking the patrol.  A MEDEVAC bird lowered a jungle penetrator hook and cable to get the wounded guy out.  Then the cable would not retract.  The pilot had to fly him daggling on the end of the cable to our hill and land next to him to pick him up.  He was a sight and he bled to death in front of us from the stumps that were his legs moments before, even with the tourniquets.

     The “watchers” had apparently placed more traps along the finger.  We were asked to send a couple of guys over to rappel in and cut out a small Landing Zone to get the platoon out.  I sent three of my best guys.  They got enough cleared so that when the wind shifted in the afternoon a slick could get in and take everyone out in shifts.  It made for a long afternoon.

     We tightened security and reviewed our defensive positions.  We did the usual “mad minute” to check fields of fire.  A “mad minute” had every soldier on his weapon with tracer rounds included. (They lit up through trajectory as a coating burned off. Machine guns had every fifth round a tracer in their belts to adjust fire onto a target.)  This would give a visible check of interlocking fires and show up dead spots in ravines, etc. where we would set claymores (These were a surface mine that was a sheet of plastic explosive under a layer of ball bearing like pellets.  They gave quite a kill pattern.)  We also used “fugas.” This was a thickened diesel fuel drum with an explosive charge behind it and a thermite grenade or flare (heat source) in front.  It shot homemade napalm down the ravine when detonated.  A final check for a blind spot was a hand-thrown grenade, and I carried a few.  A soldier’s final protective fire line was usually to his right or left, as your front was covered by the guys next to you.  This way you were not exposed to enemy direct fire, but you had to rely on your neighbor to clear your front.  This “mad” practice also served the purpose of rotating ammo.  We carried 21 or more loaded magazines for the M16 in ammo belts.  Over time the magazines might rust, so they had a shelf life.   Mad minutes were actually quite fun.      Soon the next level of harassment started – mortar rounds.  As I walked near the side of the hill a large explosion went off on the far side of our hill.  The Infantry Captain yelled “incoming” and we all dove for cover.  It was what amounted to a registration round to help adjust the enemy’s mortar attack.  It was a rough technique to adjust fire, but sometimes effective I was told.  I dropped into the nearest hole which turned out to be a garbage sump only a few inches deep.  We heard the sound of several rounds going off and puffs of smoke from the disputed ridge. And then I picked up the most frightening sight, the actual mortar rounds in a long parabolic arch coming at us – like a fly ball to center field.  The rounds got larger, and we lay as close as we could to the ground hoping they would miss.  I felt like my buttons were keeping me too high off the ground.  They landed on target, the hill, and the shrapnel crackled in the air and the ground shook, but miraculously nobody was hit.  I had heard another attack described by an NCO when a Major was hit directly by a mortar and all that was left were his boots with some jell coming out – mortars could be very lethal.  We were very lucky.  Almost immediately the artillery on Fire Base Brick fired on the ridge.  And as soon as possible, a Pink Team (LOH and Cobra gun ship) appeared.  The LOH (small helo) pilot flew at treetop over the launch site trying to draw fire. Those guys were quite brave, to say the least.  No fire was returned, so the accompanying Cobra shot up the area and took out what he could. Next, someone called in Air Force F4s and they fired rockets and dropped napalm and explosives.  It was quite a show.  We did not receive fire from the ridge again while we built FB Rifle.  

In early April or so, I took on new mission.   We were to enter a “new” AO (area of operations), reopen a road and build a first-class permanent firebase for the ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam).  It was the consummate Vietnamization mission.  The base was to be far enough west to be in the mountains but accessible by ground.  The site selected was an old US FB Rifle between FB Anzio (occupied by ARVN) and FB Brick (2^nd Brigade 101^st) and the new site was south of Phu Bai off of QL1 – the main north-south route in I Corps.

My Commanding Officer at the time, a UMSA 1968 grad, wanted me to take over as his executive officer.  But LTC Rodolph, my battalion commander, wanted me to take on this job – quite a compliment.  LTC Rodolph prevailed.

The S-3 (operations officer) would design the bunkers and base and my guys would build it.  I would have under my command two platoons of my company, C Company, plus the Headquarters equipment – literally, all but one platoon of the company.  The planning phase was kind of fun.

First, I had to recon the area and what was left of the old road by helicopter.  To do this, I was to ride as observer in a LOH (small bubble-like chopper).  My pilot was an 18-year-old warrant officer that loved to put the LOH through her paces.  First thing he did was show me how to use the stick and pedals to try and set it down in case he was hit.  I did not do very well.  We took off and surveyed the area.

 

     Neither U.S. nor ARVN troops had been on these ridges or valleys for several years.  As we flew the road, my pilot made like a roller coaster ostensibly to make us less of a target – but he just liked scaring the hell out of me.  We would dive down at high speed and come within a few inches of the ground at high speed and then pull up.  My stomach felt like the worst roller coaster ride ever.  The road was narrow and overgrown and would require some clearing, new culverts, and fill.   On one pass we saw what seemed like a very large lizard crossing the road as well as some real tiny deer (local “mule deer” species).

     After the aerial recon, we did the next phase. We landed in on top of the saddle ridge we were to use for the base.  We assaulted in and the S3 NCOs started doing a topographic survey.  There were two hills with a lower ridge in between.  The road would approach the near hill at a very steep incline.  When we landed and secured the hill, we recognized that neither was large enough for a battery base and that the two and saddle were too large.  We stayed for the remainder of the day and were lifted out at dusk.

     The final plan was to actually cut off the top of the far western hill with dozers to create a large enough battery-sized base.  Since we could not level the hill and occupy it at the same time, we would set up our temporary base on the near hill, using culverts for temporary bunkers and some wire, claymores, and trip flares for security.  We would build the permanent bunkers, extensive wire and fighting positions on the west hill and move when complete.  The road work would begin simultaneously and be based out of our position.

     We made all preparations and assaulted into the saddle in early morning, supported by most of an infantry company.  We received no incoming fire, but our gunners blazed away, anyway.  After landing we began to clear the hill and land and assemble dozers and gear.  Another platoon from C Company was to work from the existing ARVN FB along QL1 and re-open the old road.  We did our best to create a secure position on the eastern part of the saddle. We landed and swept for booby traps and mines.

     My guys began to use the equipment (backhoe and M450 dozer) to dig in positions.  The dozer and another squad moved to link up with the platoon moving from QL1. The infantry guys loved this as the usual SOP was for them to use their entrenching tools and good, deep positions with no labor were a luxury.  As I mentioned the hill had not been occupied for several years and we encountered several snakes.  There were many types of snakes in Vietnam (vipers, bamboo vipers, cobras, etc,), but the troops referred to them as “two-step” or “four-step” snakes.  The myth was that if bitten you could go two steps or four steps before the venom took effect.  One of my guys killed a very long one and as his comrades played with it, we discovered it was a King Cobra with quite a fan.  As the sun set one guy said he knew something about snakes and had we ever read “Rikki Tikki Tavi” a story about a mongoose and cobras in colonial India.  “Well,” he said, “cobras always travel in pairs.”  No one got much sleep that night.

     Several days into the job we had another encounter with local animal life.  About 0100, one of my guys on guard came up and awakened me.  He said, “LT, there is somebody just down the hill and they are breathing very loudly.”  I grabbed my weapon and gear and crawled to his position and listened.  I heard a very long, hard “grrrrrrrrrr” that was almost a deep purring.  I told him that it was not someone, but something.  Just then, a trip flare went off to our right in front of the M60 machine gun position.  A large tiger jumped in the light and down the hill.  The machine gunner was frozen and did not get off a round – neither did the rest of us.  In the morning we found tracks of a tiger and a cub all around the hill.  We did not see her again.

     The work progressed well, and we had the culverts in along the road except for one large stream crossing just before the populated areas and large elephant grass.  We would leave that as a low water crossing.  We had to sweep the road each morning for booby traps and mines and used to position our new XM 203s (a rifle and grenade launcher combination) on the front and to the flanks.  We had some “shotgun” rounds for the M79 part of the XM203s and had them loaded as we moved along.  The jungle and high grass were close.  On one sweep, the grass rustled loudly, and my guy fired the shotgun round.  We moved forward and discovered we had bagged a rather large boar.  It was sling-loaded to the battalion rear and mess hall for a “luau” for the colonel.

Early in the job my relationship to my company commander had to be “clarified.”  He showed up one day by jeep and started to give directions to me and others.  He was not very helpful and really a REMF (Rear Echelon Mother F*&%) in my mind.  Maybe, that was not fair – Engineer CPTs in their first tour had gone somewhere else after graduation and had already missed the platoon combat experience.  They wanted that, but really, they were inexperienced to those of us lucky enough to be engineer LTs.  Anyway, his command tour of C Company was coming to an end (six months was the norm) and he would soon be replaced by another. 

     LTC Rodolph landed subsequently and asked what I needed.  I said that having the Company CO moving around giving sometimes conflicting orders was not helping.  The Colonel talked with him for some time and came back and told me everything was understood – my CO was moving to the S-3 and would eventually monitor the job from Battalion.  My company commander would not come to the hill again, and he was given other duties with what remained of his company until his change of command.  Amazingly he gave me more than the benefit of the doubt and a great efficiency report.  The efficiency report system was very inflated and you were rated on part of the report on traits from 1 to 4, all “1”s were the norm.  He did ding me with a “2” for tact.  That was an understatement!

     The only Vietnamese supposed to be in the area were wood cutters and Division designated a “wood cutter’s box” frequently to allow the locals to get firewood, etc. Everyone else we found were deemed enemy and it was a free fire zone.   The infantry guys would often send out patrols at night and set up ambushes.  These often included what we called mechanical ambushes – claymores rigged to trip wires to eliminate anyone on the paths.  One such ambush was very effective and the next morning they brought in several bodies.  One was an NVA medical doctor and he had a pith helmet as the NVA regulars wore.  Inside was a photo of his wife and daughter.  It was a bit disturbing to me.

     Anyway, after Mai Lai and the trial of LT Calley, the Army was hypersensitive to civilian deaths in Vietnam.  One morning a staff sergeant in the infantry battalion working our area was leading a patrol and let his guys sleep an extra hour.  They did not take in the mechanical ambush on time and some wood cutters were messed up.  The Division picked up the SSG and took him away and charged him with manslaughter we were told.   

The ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) was finally extricated from Laos and we were alerted to prepare for blocking positions if the NVA (North Vietnamize Army) moved on I Corps.  Several units set up in the Ashau Valley and to the north to block any attacks. The NVA were hurt as much as the ARVN, I guess.  My guys were not deployed.  My recollection of the timeline gets fuzzy here, but then I was concerned that I had not heard from Mary Ellen on our baby’s birth and was getting anxious – her due date was when I was up north and that had passed.  I was so bad with worry that the Chaplain arranged a call to her via Saigon from Camp Eagle – a real telephone call!  I talked with her and she told me all was well – the baby was just late.

Sometime around this part of the tour we got what was a short in country R&R (rest and recuperation) at the division’s center called Eagle Beach east of Hue on the South China Sea.  It was just a bunch of hootches on the beach, with a recreation center with a show and bar.  We had to turn in all our weapons and were guarded by division security troops.  Infantry guys got this in country R&R and not engineers, but we were there to repair and rebuild some of the facilities and got to rest after work.  The show at night was a Filipino band with two very young go-go girl dancers (they looked 12-15).  They did all the current songs – but you have not lived until you heard “Ploud Lary – lollin on the liver” sung very loudly!

 

As I recall after we returned, we were given a civic action mission in Thua Thein province east of Hue.  (Area was just south of the French Indo-China war era stretch known as “The Street Without Joy.”)  We were to repair a road and some bridges through the flat rice paddy country and sand dunes to help the local bus company connect a bunch of small villages.  The area was very safe, and we worked out of a local ARVN base, manned by the Ruff Puffs (local regional troops something like local militia).  Down the road we ran into an Australian Special Forces Detachment whose mission was advising the local forces.  They were great guys and the only “Allies” I ran into during my tour. 

The Ruff Puffs did some night work and caught two supposed VC.  They had been killed in a fire fight and were staked out on a mound as a warning, or as a trophy, I guess.  The bodies were discolored and bloating.  As we worked near another village, we uncovered some more bodies hastily buried by the other side.  When one of my guys ran an entrenching tool into the ground, he cut right into one.  The smell was bad, and the flesh had the look of corned beef.  That was exactly what we got flown to us for a meal later that day.  It was years before I could eat corned beef again!

 

Our work went well except for two instances.  One involved the replacement of a pier for a bridge over a canal.  The water was mostly stagnant.  We waded in to work on the pier and when we got out, we had several leaches attached.  We quickly removed them with cigarettes.  I remembered the scene from “The African Queen” when Bogart has to go back in the water.  We did too – and it was not easy.

The second involved a culvert we put in the road between two paddies.  It was fine and the local farmer dammed it to control flow.  About 100 meters along, we found on successive mornings a trench dug across the road.  We filled it in and each morning it returned.  We finally got an interpreter to talk with the locals.  It seems another farmer was jealous of our “giving” a culvert to his neighbor and wanted one, too.  Although it was not called for in the plans, we added one for him in the spot he kept digging up.  He seemed pleased.

This was the closest we came to the locals who just wanted to live and ignore us and get the crops in.  They had small ponds near their homes and some raised fish in them.  The dikes were used as paths and latrines.  I sure did not want to eat any of the fish.  The Vietnamese would squat with their feet flat and actually rest in that position – we would fall over.  The older folks had terrible teeth and they would smear betel nut over them to kill pain and give you quite a look when they smiled.

Our work required some fill (additional soil) and we established a borrow pit near QL1 (main north-south route in I Corps) using some guys from our headquarters equipment platoon.  One ran a front loader and filled the 2 ½ ton dumps we borrowed from the HQ Company with fill we used to repair the road.  This was as close as our troops got to the locals, and the local ladies were plying their wares.  The loader operator was participating in an active exchange when LTC Rodolph’s LOH appeared overhead.  LTC Rodolph landed and pulled the man off in “mid debauch.”   Needless to say, we did not think that was very sporting when reported to us.

The 101^st field troop access to the local ladies was very restricted.  First, we operated in the hills where there were no locals, and second, to a small extent, some were afraid of the “Black Syph.”  The myth going around our unit was that the enemy had developed a very virulent and fatal form of syphilis.  If you got it, you were transported to isolation on an island off the coast and your family was notified that you were missing in action – never to go home.  It was very far-fetched, but we had some of Lyndon Johnson’s Project 100,000 soldiers (aka “MacNamara’s Folly” that enlisted men with less than required mental or physical capabilities) still and they would believe anything.

One evening as it was getting dark, one of the trucks ran off the road into a rice paddy.  To get it out we had to set up a dozer and cables.  We did a job on a small portion of the paddy.  I reported the damage to division and, as was the policy, the division assigned a JAG officer to pay an equitable claim to the owner of the field.  I had to accompany him to meet with the farmer.  The Vietnamese farmer had essentially claimed the entire field’s crop of rice.  We had maybe destroyed 5% of the paddy.  The payment was in the local currency, piasters, which had an official value way above its actual black-market rate. We used US Army currency we called script among US troops and stores (PX).

We went to the farmhouse – a thatched hut with a dirt floor.  The owner showed up as a former ARVN soldier with one arm.  Not sure if he was actually the owner or the “stand in” to gain more sympathy.  He showed us his discharge and medals.  We offered the appropriate amount; the farmer was very distraught.  After consultations, the division officer offered him about 25% of the field’s yield.  He took it and we shook hands and left.

We also got to play with some new mine-clearing gear brought in country by Waterways Experiment Station folks from their Corps of Engineers lab.  It was a lesson in a good technical idea that would not work.  Two civilian scientists were field testing a new nonmetallic mine detector and my platoon was to support them.  We had detectors that could find metal mines and detonators, but plastic explosives in wood containers would go mostly undetected.  Our existing nonmetallic mine detector equipment was essentially a stick to look for booby traps.  These guys had a new piece that sent out a signal and measured the changing dialectic constant of a material – a change in density and therefore, theoretically detect non-metallic mines.  You had to keep the head of the sweeper perfectly parallel to the surface – a hand turn would give a signal. 

We set up a stretch of road and buried some target nonmetallic mines.  The sweep started and we got readings every few inches – rocks, shrapnel, or wood.  We took an hour to clear a few feet.  The scientists still could not find the target mines we had placed and complained the test was unfair.  The road was not homogeneous enough.  I told them that was the condition of most roads in our areas.  We left them still trying to find the targets.

Back in base camp, I was really getting nervous about our baby and Mary Ellen – and a bit hard to live with.  On 8 March I was called in by CPT Fisher who read me a Red Cross telegram that Mary Ellen had given birth to a boy on 4 March and all was well – later I learned that Sean’s delivery was difficult, and Mary Ellen had to have a C-Section.  With the news I was ecstatic!  Wrote Mary Ellen a letter that minute – talked about little league, PTA, and how much I loved her. 

The Red Cross telegram had been held up by a Western Union strike on the west coast supposedly.  Steve, my younger brother, had delivered per our arrangement the yellow roses on time so Mary Ellen had no idea I had not been told.  

Mary Ellen had sent me a package with cigars for this moment and I opened it. The climate had taken its toll and only some were useable.  Still, I got some more from the PX and gave them out.  All I wanted now was to get home and see Mary Ellen and Sean.

When the aftermath of our air losses in Lam San 719, and of the ARVN in troops, had run its course in most of the area, I was chosen to head up a Vietnamization (efforts to turn over war to Vietnamize forces) fire base construction in our Brigade’s area of operations.  Best job I had in country.