MSG Libish
When I was assigned to the Battalion S-2 slot, the office came with a clerk,
S-4 typist, and a very large, old Master Sergeant, E-8. I arrived and
introduced myself. MSG Libish, the E-8 met me, said, welcome, gave me a
tour of the office, then sat me down and gave me some "friendly"
advice. In a nutshell, " I am MSG Libish, I have been in the Army 27
years, and there are 8 members of the Army in the Grade E-9, in my MOS. I
will keep you straight, you sign what I ask, don't be telling me how to run
your office, and we will get along fine, and I will keep you out of jail."
Thinking for a minute, looking around, my response was, OK Sarge, let me know
when you want to go to the PX in Da Nang in the LOH, or want to go up and take
pictures! For the next 8 months that’s about how the game was played.
We ended up being a really good team. He did the NCO stuff, and ran
the office, I gave the briefings from the stuff Libish gave me, and we took a
lot of pictures and went to the PX.
How do you tell a man how to do a job, when he has been doing the job 3 years
longer than I had been alive? Mouth shut and learn something. This
was the first of 3 or 4 NCOs I was to meet in my Army career that would be
really fine teachers, and exceptional NCOs.
S-2 perimeter
My first job as Bn S-2 was to see what the perimeter of the camp was and what
my new responsibilities would be. We were close to the ammunition
resupply point for the entire area, therefore in a very large danger area.
Our airfield, as well as the two Huey units, was bordered by the perimeter for
Phu Bai base camp. 24th Corps headquarters had overall responsibility for
the entire camp perimeter. They had in turn assigned a new 2 LT, fresh
from the US to the area as commander of the perimeter. A new 2 LT with no
experience was not a great comfort to me at this point. He could have had
only had 6 months in grade at most. It was about the right time, and
experience for him to be in country, but because of Aviation, and the schools,
we just didn't see 2 LTs at all, once out of flight school. All our
officers by the time they finished flight school were Sr. 1 LTs or Captains. If Warrants, they were senior WO1s or most
likely CW2s. 2 LTs, we just did not see in the average workweek or
aviation assignment.
It did not bother me at all to treat a 2 LT as I had been treated. I was
not up to just believing anything a new 2LT. said to me, especially when he held
my safety in his hands. This game had turned serious, very quickly.
Inexperience here in Viet Nam would quickly get you killed. I made many
inspection trips to the line around the camp, checking trenches, bunkers,
weapons systems, weapons on call, lighting capabilities for night attacks, etc.
I probably was his worst nightmare for the 6 months I worked with him.
We supplied most of the men to that section, had most of the assets to be
guarded, the most to lose should anything go wrong, and my boss would not think
kindly of me for letting the bad guys destroy his command.
I spent a large part of the first 8 months as Bn S-2, rewriting the battalion
SOP or Standard Operating Procedures on security, escape and evasion, and basic
security for the internal airfield areas.
As the security experts, the S-2 Section handled the internal security of each
of our companies office and barracks areas, and all airfields our subordinate
units used, as well as all the external fence for our base camp and those of the
subordinate units. All in all, about 3,000 meters of external wire,
separated us from the bad guys.
We reinforced, and then backed up everything at least twice. Once for
real and once again in planning or contingency plans.
Building the officer's club
While I was working as S-2 and IP, the battalion headquarters wanted its own
club. We had some very good "scroungers" at the battalion level
and they were at work full time. For a swap, we got the navy
Seabees to come over and "set" the center pole for the new O club at
battalion. It was a 12" radius steel pole, and set in 4 foot of
concrete. Around the bottom of the center pole was welded steel sleeves
for 8" X 12" timbers. The timbers were run outward like the spokes
from a wheel center. The final shape of the club would be a Hexagon.
Once the beams for floor and ceiling were in place, the work began for the sub
flooring, walls, and roof. Just as the walls and roof were finished the
work was stopped. It seems the Army was running a criminal investigation
of the procurement of materials and manpower for building an
"unauthorized" club. It also seems we were trying to revert to
stateside, peacetime Army rules in the middle of a combat zone.
Apparently someone had complained to a higher command.
The investigation was completed and we were told to continue if we liked.
We were taking collections to pay any labor provided by the enlisted of
the unit. The materials being used, were being used for Army morale and
welfare, and therefore not for personal gain. All in all, the estimate
that we had spent in time, materials was about 75,000.00. It was still
Army equipment and used for the Army so it was therefore not illegal. The
final cost for the club was probably 100,000 in 1969, which was a very
expensive club, by any standards.
By the time it was finished, we had added tile to the floor, dropped the floor
for the center to make a 360 degree bar, used large air conditioners that never
seemed to work, put gravel on the roof (35 tons) to reflect heat and light.
We had a beautiful club and hosted many parties, always supplied with nurses
from local hospitals. Not bad for a combat zone.
My most memorable night in that building was shortly after moving to battalion.
We were sitting playing cards when rockets started to land and explode in
our area. There were 6 players and we were just starting to play a hand
of poker. The first couple of cards had been dealt and the dealer was
starting the first of 6 cards on the second deal. As the rockets started
falling, we continued to watch the cards being dealt - each of us looking at
his own, and then the other player’s cards. When the last card was dealt,
and the second or third rocket had hit the area, we all jumped up, and started
walking briskly toward the only door in the building.
It was a smooth, quiet exit, until we hit the door. I immediately pushed
past the commander and headed for the operations bunker at battalion. (My duty
station). About half way there, a couple of rockets exploded just off to
my left in an empty field. For some reason I stopped and watched the
explosions, then slowly walked on to the operations bunker, stepped inside, and
stood in the door watching the balance of the attack. To this day I do
not understand what was so important about watching rockets exploding and
possibly killing me.
That night we found the first rocket we heard had landed on the airfield about
100 yards out the window behind the card table. There were two guards on
duty that night, and both were walking between the helicopters when the rocket
hit.
One guard was hit with shrapnel that came from the PSP making the runway and
parking area. It struck him in the groin and severed the femoral artery
in his leg. The second guard heard his cry for help, crawled to him,
clamped the artery with his fingers and kept the first from bleeding to death
until the flight surgeon could be called and treat him.
Flight Surgeon
Each Battalion size aviation unit had assigned one each Army Flight Surgeon. This
was a doctor who had been drafted, usually, and with some Army extra training,
designated as a flight surgeon. Compared to hospital duty and sometimes a
"MASH" unit, our doctors lived pretty quiet and soft lives.
Remember, at the time there were no females in combat units or in Army
aviation units. None. No females. The idea would have been a
joke. Women were not exposed to combat.
Our flight surgeon had been an OB/GYN doctor in civilian practice before the
Army. He might have been great with the women, but with a couple of
thousand guys as pilots, mechanics, and crewmembers, he wasn’t much.
Most of our medicine and treatment came from his "Medics", or
corpsman assigned to assist him. He signed the paperwork and that was
about all.
At one point during a rocket attack I had been having bouts of severe stomach
pain. It would double me over and I couldn't move until it faded. They
were sharp, intense, then would fade. It had happened for a couple of
years, great stress seemed to bring it on quickly, and then it would disappear
for a long while.
As my luck would have it, the doc. walked in and saw me bent over. His
immediate action was to get me to the office and examine me. In this
case, I can't claim any more smarts than the doctor. I followed him and
climbed on a cot mounted on two barrels in the rear of his "office".
As I looked over my shoulder, I was looking through a screen window,
about 3 feet above the barricades protecting the building from mortar or rocket
attack. He was doing an examination in the middle of a rocket attack and
I was suddenly "his protection".
My only thought was that he must have been looking for a medal. He was
practicing medicine under artillery fire when it could have waited another half
hour or at least until the rockets stopped. Then again, I was allowing
him to examine me, so not really bright on my part.
When he started talking about operating on my appendix, and that it had to come
out immediately, he scared me more than the rockets did, and I returned to the
operations bunker, telling him, no thanks, and we would make an appointment for
tomorrow.
He followed me to operations and continued with the insistence to operate,
claiming my appendix had burst and I would die. My response was it was
the last in a number of episodes of the same pain; therefore it was old hat and
not my appendix. He finally left me alone and said he would make an
appointment in DaNang for a hospital test to see if I had ulcers. I
agreed.
Two days later I flew to DaNang to the hospital. The agreement was based
on me flying to DaNang, having some test and coming home. All done the
same day, and in my aircraft.
I arrived, shut down the helicopter, and went into the hospital at Da Nang. The
doctor, nurse I thought at the time, led me in, gave me white chalky stuff to
drink and took pictures as the fluid lined the inside of my stomach. At the
end, the quart jar was still 3/4 full, and the doctor or medic told me to
"chug it all". My response to him was, "f....k you",
this stuff is too nasty. He smiled and said, drink what you can.
When I had enough, he left and told me to dress. In a few minutes he
returned. I'm now dressed in my Captain's flight suit and thinking I’m
really a swell guy. The doctor, I notice has removed the little white
smock he was wearing. He had removed the smock to show me the Eagle, of a
Full Colonel as his rank. Oops! He smiled as I realized
telling a Full Colonel to do himself wasn't really the "Army" way.
I left quickly. No ulcer, thank goodness.
Only later did I find that had I had an ulcer there would be no flying for
me. I would have been grounded and
never flown again. Doc almost did me in.
Tricks on other members of the staff.
Quickly, upon arrival at the battalion staff, I found that the group was not
shy or "reserve" as they had appeared from the company level.
At first it was a bit of a shock, then a lot of fun. Practical
jokes were the norm.
The favorite, at the time was "fake" incoming enemy artillery rounds.
After work, and before the club scene, most of the staff would shower,
eat, and just lounge around the billeting area and talk. Anyone not
outside, therefore, must be antisocial and need "bringing" into the
group.
If the offending member lived in a room with the door that swung outward, the
door would be blocked to prevent it from opening. Then a large clod of
dirt or medium size rock would be thrown on top of the room roof and everyone
outside would yell "incoming"! Thinking we were getting enemy
artillery rounds, this would instantly bring a response of heading for the
local and nearest bomb shelter, except the door wouldn't open. It was
enough that the targeted individual tried to open the door.
To block the door and prevent the individual from leaving if the door opened
inward a bar would be placed across the door opening at about knee high, and
braced with pieces of wood on each end, holding it in place. The results would
be the same. The door would open and the unlucky party would hit the "brace"
about knee high and tumble into the dirt while everyone stood by and laughed.
It was a normal induction to any and all new members of the staff.
Now and then an old member could be caught again. It would be especially
easy to catch an old member if we had had a real rocket attack. For a
couple of days afterward, everyone would be jumpy and run at the slightest
alarm.
Pay change - midnight. - 3am.
Some time just after I was checked out as the LOH IP for the unit the command
levels for the division pulled the 6-month currency change on the units.
This entailed shutting all units down for a specific night. Usually
it started about midnight. All units were frozen, no missions, no
vehicles could move off the bases.
Each unit, at every level would appoint officers and enlisted men and collect
all the military script in the unit. Every penny, nickel, dollar, etc.,
from every man. He would be given a receipt for the money he turned in.
No questions asked. (Only military script was allowed in country.
When you arrived at one of the points of entry, if you were in the
military, you turned in all of the green backs or US money you carried)
The money collected would then be flown to the next higher headquarters and
turned in as "bulk" from the unit. The companies turned it in
to battalion, the battalion to the group, the group to the division, etc.
You could then sign for and count an exact amount in new currency, return
to the unit and return the money to the individuals in the amount they had turned
in.
The idea was that the black market was thriving. If the soldier spent US
dollars in country, it would cause inflation, and possibly allow treasury notes
to get to the North Vietnamese. To prevent inflation and stabilize the
local currency, we rotated the MPC, military pay script, to keep it out of the
locals hands.
During these "exchanges" Vietnamese civilians would come to the gates
and try to bribe the guards to turn in script for them, for a price. It
was very common after an exchange to have local Vietnamese come to the
headquarters looking for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, etc., to collect
the new money. GIs would steal the money, and then disappear after giving
false names. Not nice, but it happened.
At any time you could exchange MPS for local currency, in fact, it was
encouraged. You could do it one of three ways. US military
office, local banks (Vietnamese), or you could find a local who would exchange
it. The military and official rates were something like 160 dong to the
US dollar. If you went to the local civilian for an exchange rate, it
would be more like 200 - 220 dong to the US dollar. Needless to say, few
GIs used the "Official". You did, however, have to be
careful. The local changer would shortchange you in a flash. Best
way was to make him count it and lay it flat on the table, or better let
another GI hold the money. It was common for the exchanger to fold his
bills and count them fast, shorting the exchange by one bill or more. GI
s weren't the only ones trying to get the better of a financial deal.
GI Fraggings
By the middle of 1969 we were getting reports of GI s throwing fragmentation
grenades at their officers and NCOs. It was interesting to note where and
why this was occurring.
Ironically, the only fraggings we heard of were in base camps. As it
happened we had one in our battalion headquarters company. The first
sergeant for the company pulled down his bed one night to find a "Thermite
Grenade" lying between the sheets. It did not explode, and if it had
would have only burned the building down, compared to a fragmentation grenade.
Down the road from our headquarters was an outdoor theater constructed for
entertainment. The unit had nightly shows with bleachers and a very nice
area. One night, a soldier was killed and a couple were wounded
when someone threw a grenade into the crowd watching a movie.
Never did we have a report of a grenade being thrown or anyone attempting to
kill fellow soldiers in the combat units. Artillery, Armor, Infantry
units saw enough death on a daily bases. The fraggings were always a
result of clerks and typists in the rear areas. The soldiers with the
easy, soft jobs were the only ones trying to kill their follow soldiers.
Go figure!
The only exception I know of, to the above was on Hamburger hill in late summer
of 1969, and it was rumor, however, I believed the rumor.
Hamburger hill had started when the 189th Infantry committed a company of
infantry to take a mountain. The reason to take the mountain was that it
was suspected of being the base for a small enemy force sending messages to
North Viet Nam. The battalion commander committed one infantry company,
about 175 men. The second day, he committed the second company, and the
third day, the third company, or the entire battalion was committed by the
third day. Of the battalion, by the fourth day only about 50 were left on
the hill fighting. The rest had been medevaced off the hill. So
many causalities in fact, we were using Hueys to take them off the hill, move
them to rear areas, then using Chinooks and hauling the wounded and dead to the
hospitals. It was a massacre.
In the end, it took 14 days, air strikes, artillery strikes, and almost 1,000
men.
The result of taking the mountain was a tunnel with a cable running somewhere,
believed to be to the north, and one body. For some reason, there never
was an explanation of how one soldier from NVA could hold off so many Americans
for two weeks.
When Hamburger Hill was taken, the press was brought out to the site. By
the time it was over, Washington was discussing it; it was headlines in Time
and Newsweek magazines, and on the nightly news.
I next heard and saw the commander was promoted to Full Colonel, and assigned
the job of inspecting Army posts for "efficiency". He led a
team of 5 - 10 officers to military bases and gave inspections to see if we
were "Efficient" in the performance of our duties.