SIGNING IN AT CCC

Like so many of you, I was introduced to the L-19 at Fort Rucker and flew it in South Vietnam. I had been in-Country since September, 1969, flying Otters in Da Nang and was bored out of my mind. I was a 22-year-old First Lieutenant, thoroughly convinced of not only my own immortality but of my unmatched flying ability. If you could master the Otter in a cross-wind, you had arrived. What illusions we suffer in the name of vanity.
I talked my way out of “Low, Slow and Reliable” in late October by insulting the CO’s girlfriend, and found myself instantaneously en-route to Camp Holloway in the Central Highlands of II Corps. When I got to my new unit, the 219th Aviation Company (Head Hunters) I was advised by Don Shpp, the giant XO, that I would spend a week or two getting checked out on the bird-dog, and then be assigned to a platoon. So I flew around II Corps with Bill Baxter, my instructor/check pilot, did a little artillery spotting with some kid from the 4th Infantry Division nicknamed “Cherry Boy”. I either didn’t know his real name or have forgotten it, except for his nom de guerre, which still strikes me as funny, but not for the obvious reason. Whatever-his-name-was looked almost angelic, too young, too fresh, too innocent, too Oklahoma-country, like Mickey Mantle just up from the minors, totally overwhelmed by the magnificence of Yankee Stadium.
At the conclusion of the check-out Captain Shipp gave me the choice of flying for the 4th or the 2nd platoon. He told me that if I picked the 4th I’d be working for the 4th Division as an artillery spotter as well as doing some recon work. Since I’d be staying at Holloway I’d do guard duty, mortar watch, and I’d be the “hooch maid control officer” as well as something called the “vector control officer”. I had no clue as to what any of this entailed, but it sounded like so much nonsense. I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through college, so I was an expert in nonsense. I could also go to work for the 2nd platoon, in which case I’d be working for a Special Forces operation. Naturally I asked about “extra duties”, and when Shipp said he didn’t know of any, I easily opted for the 2nd platoon. “Pack your stuff and be back in 2 hours. I’ll give you a ride” offered the XO, a sneaky smile on his big face. Off we went to Kontum, north of Holloway and a whole lot closer to the Laos/Cambodian border. He dropped me off at the airfield in Kontum and I hung out waiting for Captains Chuck Slimowicz and Big John Meyers to show up. Slimowicz arrived first and told me that I would replace Meyers over at FOB (whatever that was), so “don’t unpack”. Upon Meyer’s arrival and grunted greeting we proceeded through Kontum City by jeep to a fortified encampment bristling with antennas and guarded by Montagnard mercenaries. I put my duffle and flight bag in the S3’s office and was introduced to the CO, a Lieutenant Colonel dressed in cut off jungle fatigue pants, a t-shirt and shower shoes. He lead me to the Operations Office, introduced me to the Intelligence Officer who looked a lot like Colonel Potter from Mash. I was given a top secret clearance and Col. Potter’s look-alike proceeded to brief me on the mission. In a darkened room he lit up a big map which contained large portions of Laos and Cambodia, and not much of Vietnam. This is Salem House, this is Prairie Fire, this is Highway 110, this is the Bra, here is Castle Rock…I started to go google-eyed, slightly staggered by the dawning realization that Vietnam would serve as merely the to-from corridor for my new favorite place, and I was now a member of the Laotian/Cambodian Highway Patrol. King’s X. I had my fingers crossed. My mother doesn’t want me to do this. The dog ate my homework…
From January, 1970 until August, 1970 I worked for the Studies and Observations Group. We handled the insertion and extraction of recon teams in Laos and Cambodia. We did low-level photo recon after B52 strikes. We marked targets and directed close-air support. We took some ground fire, and I even had a guy throw a rock at me.
As I look back on this time I remember being scared, but only after the fact. What I remember most is how funny so many things were. I’ll talk about them in another installment. Except for the funny thing I saw that first day at FOB 2. I know that at one time or another we all read “Catcher in the Rye”. Toward the end of Salinger’s book, the protagonist, Holden Caulfield, goes to his sister’s school to take her home. While waiting for Zoey to be dismissed he notices that someone has written “---- you” on the wall. Profane, vile but profound in that this was directed at no one in particular and everyone in general. Well, in the latrine that afternoon I noticed, among all the graffiti, “Hooray for the Green Bidets”. Idiotic. In the middle of nowhere a reference to a bathroom fixture; some one knew what a bidet was, colored it green, and pinned silver jump wings on it. You can’t make this stuff up…