Another Place - Episode 16

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Sixteen

About a month later, just after breakfast, I said good-bye to Lands. We shook hands and then hugged. I walked outside with him and watched as he threw his duffel bag into the back of the unit’s ¾-ton utility vehicle, then he got in the front seat with Riley and in a minute, he was gone. I was pretty choked up when I turned back toward the barracks.

Just before noon, Riley found me, sitting in a corner of the empty mess hall reading a book.

He bounced in, in his usual upbeat fashion and said, “Hi, Sarge.”

I looked up and smiled because, whether you liked it or not, his smile was infectious. “Grab a cup of coffee, Riley, and have a seat. Did you get Lands to the 90th?”

Before answering, Riley looked around the mess hall, poured himself a cup of coffee, and then walked over to my table. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and leaned across the table toward me. Only then did he say, “Yep, he’s there. He said you knew the plan, so I thought I’d ask you if you’d like to go with me to pick him up.”

“I’d love to. When are you leaving?”

“We’ll leave here at 1500 hours and pick him up at 1530.”

I was at the kennel fifteen minutes early. Five minutes later Riley appeared. In two minutes, we had Ringo and Whispers leashed in the back of the ¾-ton. At 1510, we waved at the MP at the main gate and headed toward Long Binh. Twenty minutes later, we turned left onto Highway One, the road to Saigon. We had only gone a quarter of a mile when Riley pulled over in front of a simple Buddhist temple.

Lands emerged immediately, his duffel bag over his shoulder. He threw the bag in the back and crawled in after it, quickly settling between the two dogs. Seconds later, he shouted, “We’re set back here.” Riley dumped the clutch and in a huge cloud of dust and gravel, we shot back onto the highway.

Thirty minutes later, we were in Saigon. We dropped Lands and Ringo in front of a modest two-story house on the street opposite a section of the port used only by private freighters. There was one small ship flying the Thai Flag tied to the wharf directly across the street from the house. Riley shouted through the open rear window of the canvas roof, “Lands, it’s risky for us to sit here. Do you remember where to go and what to do?”

“Yes, indeed, Corporal Riley,” Lands said in mock seriousness. “I’ve thought about little else for the past month.”

I shook Lands’s hand through the open rear window. “Write as soon as you get home.”

Lands grinned, “You can count on it, Jake.”

He untied Ringo’s leash, grabbed his duffel bag, and he and the dog jumped out onto the street. They ran a few steps toward the house, stopped, turned back and looked at us. Lands saluted. I returned it. Ringo barked and Lands shouted, “Good luck, Jake, and you, too, Whispers,” as Riley pulled away from the curb and blended smoothly into the passing traffic.

Six weeks later, I was in the barracks when I heard Riley coming down the hallway. I called out, “Come in, Riley,” just as he knocked on my door.

He popped into my now private room and held out an envelope. “I think this is the one we’ve been waiting on.”

I took it and immediately saw that the return address simply said “HOME,” and the postmark read, “Davenport, Iowa.”

That afternoon I told Whispers that Ringo and Lands had made it home okay.

He barked softly and wagged his tail.

********

Whispers and I settled into a routine for the next six months. We averaged one three-day, or four-day patrol every ten days or so. It became increasingly clear to me, and I’m sure to everyone else in the IPDS and the LURP unit, that Whispers was an exceptional Scout Dog. What else could we believe? After almost seven months, he had spotted every single ambush and trap he’d faced.

The number of commendations in our file rapidly grew to the point I lost count of them. Besides the commendations, we’d received two Bronze Stars for valor. Frankly, I could have cared less about those. My only concern was doing the job I had set out to do which was keeping myself and Whispers safe until it was time for us to leave Vietnam. If that kept other people safe also, that was a bonus.

One afternoon Riley found me in the mess hall, the second place he looked after checking the kennel. He told me the Old Man and the First Sergeant wanted to talk to me. I asked him what was going on.

“You’ll see,” he said over his shoulder as he led the way.

When we walked into the orderly room, I saw Captain Petty standing beside the First Sergeant’s desk. They were pretending to talk about something, but it was obvious they were waiting on me. Riley had two folding chairs set up for the Captain and me. We sat down in front of the First Sergeant’s desk.

For a moment, no one said anything. Finally Captain Petty spoke.

“Jake, we wanted you to know the three of us have just signed up for another tour in Vietnam.” As he said this, he made a gesture that took in Riley and the First Sergeant.

“We came over with the 9th, and we were all three scheduled to rotate out in two weeks, but we’ve talked about it and decided to stay another year. We are about the only real family we have. Well, it’s more than that, way more than any of us could ever explain… Anyway, we wanted you to know because….well, I’ll let the First Sergeant tell you.”

They had been together for two years before the unit came to Vietnam, and then for almost a year in Vietnam. I understood there was more to their extending for another tour than just their three-year history together.

In fact, I had been thinking about what I would do after Vietnam.  The more I considered the possibilities, the more attractive another tour looked to me.  I just couldn’t see myself bagging groceries in the family store with Whispers at my side.  My desire to be a Scout Dog handler had given me the incentive to excel for the first time in my life.  When Whispers became my partner, my life suddenly had meaning.  Getting Whispers meant I got Vietnam, but it was worth it.  Sergeant Jacobson, Scout Dog Handler, Whispers, and Vietnam all went together.  When I was honest with myself, I knew I wasn’t ready to turn Vietnam loose, at least not just yet.

The First Sergeant began, “Jake, we’re telling you because we know that you plan to take Whispers out of here when you go, and we wanted you to know that we support that. You can count on us to help you every way that we can.” He looked at Riley and then said, “As smart as Riley is, he doesn’t engineer what we’ve come to call the ‘great getaways’ all by himself. Captain Petty and I handle some of the events that are part of the show, and we’ll do it for you and Whispers when you’re ready to go.”

I had known from the time Lands and Ringo left that Riley, alone, couldn’t put together everything needed for a successful getaway. Now I had the whole picture.

“That’s funny,” I said. “Riley told me he did it all by himself. He said he had a direct line to General Westmoreland’s office and…”

Riley stopped me by throwing a cup of water in my direction. We laughed and went to the mess hall for a cup of coffee.

********

Two weeks later, I was cleaning Whisper’s run when Captain Petty, First Sergeant Conley, and a Ranger Captain that I had never seen before approached me. The First Sergeant said, “Jake, we need to talk to you.” I opened the gate, and went outside, with Whispers on my heels. Captain Petty said, “Jake, this is Captain Webster, he’s the group Chaplain.”

I looked at the cross on the Captain’s fatigue jacket, and I had an idea why they were there. Whispers whined softly. We sat at the makeshift table nailed together from empty wire spools discarded by the communications guys. The Chaplain came right to the point. “Jake, your parents died last week in an automobile accident near Valdosta. The Red Cross screwed up, and failed to get in touch with you when it happened. In fact, it happened over a week ago. I called the Chief of Police in Valdosta just before I came over here. Your parents were buried two days ago, Jake.” He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, son.”

I managed to say, “Thanks.”

The Chaplain said, “Is there anything I can do?”

I shook my head.

The First Sergeant said, “Jake, we’ll be in the orderly room. Come on up when you’re ready.” The three men walked slowly and silently away from the kennel.”

Whispers and I sat there for a longtime, and then we went to the orderly room. The Chaplain had already left. Captain Petty, The First Sergeant and Riley were waiting on me. The First Sergeant said, “Let’s go over to the mess hall, I think they just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

In the mess hall, Captain Petty told me that I could go home on leave if I wanted to. I thanked him and told him there was no one there that I wanted to see. Besides, I didn’t want to leave Whispers.

“I understand,” he murmured. “I’m really sorry, Jake.”

Late that afternoon, Whispers and I began walking. We walked from one end of Bearcat to the other, back and forth, back and forth. We walked all-night. Whispers had never met my mother and daddy, so I told him all about them. I told him how wonderful they were, and how they loved me as much as I loved him. He understood that. I cried until the tears were all gone. Then, we walked back to the mess hall, and I scrounged some bacon for Whispers before we went to bed, me in my bunk and Whispers in Land’s old bunk. No one bothered us all-day. When we left the room, I saw that Riley had pinned a sign on my door. It read, “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT KNOCKING.” I looked at it and felt a tear run down my cheek.

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.

Another Place - Episode 15

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Fifteen

In the next four days, we had no direct contact with the enemy. During that time, Whispers showed me the locations of seven traps, and I redirected Isaacs to avoid them. I didn’t think anything about the number of direction changes, beyond the fact that we were doing our job.

Obviously, Lieutenant Barzuto thought seven direction changes without incident were a bit beyond routine, because a few days after our return to Bearcat, Riley found me in the mess hall having coffee with two other handlers.

“Jake. I’ve been looking for you.”

“What’s up, Riley? Another patrol?”

“I don’t think so, Sarge. The Old Man told me to find you. He wants to talk to you, right now.”

When we walked through the door, Captain Petty called out, “Jake, come on back, there’s someone here that I want you to meet.”

I entered the CO’s modest office and the two men who had been sitting in front of his desk stood up. I recognized Lieutenant Barzuto, but the other officer was a stranger. Captain Petty said, “Jake, you know Lieutenant Barzuto, but I don’t think you’ve met his Commanding Officer, Major Samuels.”

I started to salute, but Samuels stopped me, “Jake, we’re no more formal than you dog boys, maybe even less. And the truth is, if anyone should be saluting, we ought to be saluting you.”

We shook hands, and he sat back down. “That’s better. Have a seat; we won’t take but a minute.”

Just as I realized there was no chair for me, Riley magically appeared in the doorway and handed me an old folding chair. Everyone laughed as he disappeared.

Petty looked at Samuels. “Major, don’t even think about trying to get Riley. We couldn’t run this place without him.”

Samuels replied, “Petty, you must be a mind reader.” Then he looked at me. “Sergeant, Captain Petty tells me that you and your dog are new in-country.”

“Yes, Sir, we’ve been here a little more than two weeks. We’ve only been on two patrols, both of them led by Lieutenant Barzuto.”

“Then I suspect you don’t have any idea how you and Whispers stack up to other dogs and handlers.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, Sir, but now that you mention it, you’re right.”

“Well, let me clear that up for you. On a four-day patrol, it’s not unusual for a dog and handler to discover and avoid two, three, maybe even four traps. As far as I know, to find and avoid seven in one patrol is a record, and that’s why we’re here.”

He removed a sheet of paper from a folder lying on Captain Petty’s desk. “Jake, this is a Certificate of Commendation presented to you and Whispers from the 9th Division Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol Company. It commends the two of you for outstanding performance in support of the LURPs”

As he handed the certificate to me he added, “I’ve got an idea that this is only the first of many of these you and Whispers will collect.”

As I took the certificate, I recalled the others I had received for outstanding performance in Army training courses. Then, for some reason, I thought of Mr. Jones, the Principal at Harris Senior High School. I knew that one day I would have to tell him about all this.

I smiled and thanked Major Samuels. He started to get up, thought better of it, and sank back into his chair, “There is one question I’d like to ask you, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Sir, go ahead.”

“Jake, in our preparation of the commendation, we talked to Corporal Isaacs. He has been in our unit for almost twelve months, which means he has worked with many scout dogs and handlers. We asked him how Whispers let you know there was a trap or trip wire ahead, and he told us that all that happened was the two of you would stop walking. He said when you stopped sometimes you asked Whispers, ‘What is it, Boy?’ And other times you didn’t say anything. Then you’d stand there for a few seconds like you were waiting for something. He said after a few seconds you’d grin, turn to him and give him a new direction of travel.”

Samuels paused, looked intently at me, and said, “What am I missing here, Sergeant?”

“You aren’t missing anything, Sir. That’s exactly what happened.”

“What I’m asking, Sergeant, is what was going on while you were standing there?”

“Oh, that. Well, I’d ask Whispers why he stopped. Sometimes, I’d ask him out loud, but usually I’d just think it. Then, I stand there until I know what he sees, smells, or hears. What I mean is, I saw the trap, exactly the way that Whispers saw it. Somehow, he shows me the trap. Does that make sense, Sir?”

Major Samuels smiled. “No, Sergeant, it doesn’t make sense, at least not to me, but I believe you, and I know it makes sense to you and Whispers, so just keep on doing it.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then the Major asked, “When did you stumble on this way of talking to your dog?”

“It happened the first time I met him, Sir. Captain Cox, the Scout Dog Training Center Company Commander, told me Whispers was too young to go through the training without an exception, and he asked me what I wanted to do. Well, I figured it was up to Whispers, so I asked him, and he told me he could do it. I mean, he told me, and I heard him in my head…heard him say that he could do it. I asked Captain Cox to give Whispers an exception for age, and we finished first in our class, Sir.”

Major Samuels smiled, stood, and shook my hand again. “I’m glad you’re with us, Jake, damn glad, and I have a hunch we’ll be meeting like this often.”

Major Samuels and Lieutenant Barzuto left the office and Petty said, “Hang on a minute, Jake. I need to talk to you.”

Before the Captain could begin, Riley popped back into the office and neatly took the Certificate of Commendation right out of my hands, “This is for your 201 file, Jake. But, before I send it to personnel, I’m going to get the info from it and type a press release for your hometown newspaper.” As quickly as he had appeared, Riley was gone.

Captain Petty, still grinning at Riley’s performance, sat on the edge of his desk and picked up a piece of paper that was the only object on the desktop. He glanced at it, looked at me, then said, “Jake, it’s time for you and Whispers to go back to work. I’ve scheduled you for a three-day patrol that leaves this this afternoon at 1700 hours.”

“Is it anything out of the ordinary, Sir?”

“As far as I know, it isn’t. But, on the other hand, as far as I know, there is nothing ordinary in Vietnam.”

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.

Another Place Episode 14

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Fourteen

A week after our first patrol, Lands and I were at the kennel working with Ringo and Whispers when Riley found us. As soon as he saw us, he shouted, “Hey, the First Sergeant wants to see both of you.”

“I take it our vacation is about to end,” Lands said.

Riley laughed.

“If you call being at Camp Bearcat a vacation, you’re right. It’s about to end.”

“Good,” said Lands. “I’m getting tired of long days without a bunch of short brown men that I don’t know, trying to kill me.”

We secured the dogs in their runs and headed for the orderly room.

“Young Men, it’s time to go back to work,” the First Sergeant said as soon as we walked through the door.

“Lands, you have less than thirty days left so you get the milk run. It’s a four-day sweep and the Pathfinders are going to remain in the Landing Zone while the patrol is out. Lands, you and Ringo will stay with them. Jake, you and Whispers will go with the patrol.”

“When do we leave, First Sergeant?” I asked.

“You’ll leave the company area at 1700 hours. Riley will take you to the staging area. Meet him here, at the orderly room.”

*********

Back in our room we began gathering our gear for the mission. I had something on my mind, something that had been there for almost a year, and I had an idea that Lands could clear it up for me.

“Lands, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Jake, fire away.”

“The First Sergeant said you were getting short. Are you really leaving Vietnam?”

“You better believe it, Jake. I’m so short; I can hear the big iron bird sitting on the runway winding up its engines. Yep, Curtis Lands has done his time and is about to be just another page in the history of Southeast Asia.”

Without looking at Lands, I asked, “What about Ringo?”

Lands didn’t answer. Instead, he stopped sorting the gear on his bunk, turned, and left the room. I heard him walk to the far end of the hallway. Then, I heard him turn and walk past our room before going all the way to the opposite end of the hall. In a few seconds, he was back.

He walked through the door with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry about that, Jake. You just asked about the one piece of information that nobody around here talks about in public. So I wanted to make sure that we had the place to ourselves.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“No problem. You need to know, and I’m going to tell you. I just wanted to make sure that I’d be telling only you.”

He shuffled through some gear in silence for a while, before he began to talk again. “I’m sure you know that officially our dogs are U.S. Army equipment, and that means they cannot leave Vietnam with their handlers. Obviously, if we followed that ruling, there’d be a lot of extra dogs in the unit. You’re not stupid, Jake, and you’re not blind. I’m sure you’ve noticed that we only have one extra dog.”

Once again, he shuffled through his gear. Without looking up, he went on, “Eight handlers, all members of the advance party or men who didn’t have enough time for a full tour when the unit came over, have gone home. Every one of them is home now and every one of them has his dog with him.”

He looked up from his stack of gear, stared straight at me and said, “Jake, if I couldn’t get Ringo out of here I wouldn’t be leaving. I’d stay here with him until the war was over or one or both of us died.” He paused, looked in my eyes for a long moment then continued, “Jake, that’s not right, we’ve done our time, and we’re going home.”

He glanced toward the doorway before continuing. “Here’s how it works. When a handler and his dog leave, Riley will wait a while, I don’t know how long, and then he’ll make an entry in the Morning Report stating the dog died in action, or died of natural causes. That’s what it takes to get the dog off the unit’s property list. With the ‘property’ accounted for, that’s the end of it. Now, here’s the crazy part of the deal, Jake. Though it’s against regulations to take a scout dog out of Vietnam—in fact, it’s a court-martial offense—almost every handler does it, and everyone not directly involved is willing to do whatever they can to help pull it off.”

I considered what Lands had said.

“I have a good friend in the States,” I said, “Captain Richard Kennedy, who did a tour as a transportation officer with an infantry division. While he was here he got to know the dogs and handlers in a unit based near him, at Chu Chi. He told me there were ways to get a dog home, but he didn’t know any details.”

Lands laughed. “Well, so much for secrets. Seriously, Jake, there are several ways to get a dog home. When it’s your turn, remember, your primary objective is to get Whispers home, and your second is to do it as covertly as possible.”

I nodded and he continued, “Getting out by freighter is the method of choice. It’s a bit pricey, but it is close to being failsafe. The enemy doesn’t receive any supplies by freighter, at least not a freighter that arrives in Saigon.” He laughed at his joke before going on, “That means there is no reason to check these ships, either as they arrive or leave. Our lovely winter cruise is costing me $1,200.00, which is almost two months pay. But to be honest, I’d pay a whole lot more to take Ringo home with me.”

“Can you tell me how it works?”

“I won’t bore you with the fine points but, it goes this way. I’ll come down on orders to leave country. In my case, I’m mustering out of the Army, so I’ll go to Oakland, at least my orders will say I’m going to Oakland. Riley has a friend in the Air Force who will check me off the boarding manifest for the flight home and another friend stateside who will check me in. I’ll leave here with all of my records, which will include a DD 214 that reads, ‘prepared in Oakland’. In fact, all of my records say I out-processed at Oakland. Also, in my file are my final discharge papers, financial records, and physical exam form. Copies of the files are forwarded to Army records in St. Louis, a clerk in Oakland will destroy any records that suggest I never showed up, and that’s it.”

“So you’ll leave Vietnam on a ship?”

“That’s right. You haven’t been to Saigon yet so you haven’t seen the port. It lines both sides of the Saigon River. It takes more equipment and supplies to support a half-million troops than you can imagine. All you can see in the port, for miles and miles, are hundreds of freighters, from all over the world, big ones, small ones, new ones and old ones. Ringo and I are leaving on a small, Thai-registered freighter that will be going to Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, I’ll board a containership going to Vancouver. From Vancouver, we’ll make our way home to Davenport, Iowa.”

We worked in silence for a time, sorting and packing our gear. Then Lands said, “Jake, the only reason we have an extra dog at the kennel is a sniper killed his handler, Tom Stoner, three weeks ago. So, if you’ve been worrying about getting Whispers home, you can stop it right now.” He laughed, and then said, “Just start saving your money.”

*********

The LURP patrol was the same one we had been with a week earlier, except for Johnson. A new kid named Martin, another farm boy from the look of him, was in Johnson’s position.

I asked Staff Sergeant Rice how Johnson was doing. He laughed and said, “He’s great. There was no permanent damage, but he has to suffer three to six months of convalescence and therapy with the nurses at Brooke Army Hospital at Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Then he’ll probably spend a week or two at home, before he gets himself back over here where he belongs. Johnson is a lucky trooper, that’s for sure.”

Lieutenant Barzuto shouted, “Jake, you and Whispers come over here for a minute.” We walked over and the Lieutenant introduced us to Corporal Johnny Isaacs, a skinny, black kid from Alabama.

After we shook hands, he reached down and let Whispers smell his hand, patted Whispers’s head, and gave him a quick rub behind both ears. Though Johnny was young, his eyes were old. The thousand-yard stare had already marked him. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, Vietnam had already marked me, as well.

Barzuto looked first at Isaacs, then at Whispers, and finally at me, and in total seriousness said, “Jake, you have a major disadvantage here, and I mean a major disadvantage.”

He stopped talking and waited for me to take the bait. I didn’t disappoint him.

I asked, “What’s my disadvantage Lieutenant?”

He said, “Jake, Corporal Isaacs and Whispers are both black. Think about it. They will be invisible at night. You, on the other hand, will stand out to snipers from about a mile away, no matter how much of that grease paint you put on your white face.”

We all laughed while Whispers wagged his tail and barked softly a couple of times. Even the dog enjoyed seeing me fall for a joke.

When the laughter died away, the Lieutenant continued, this time very seriously, “OK, here’s the deal. Isaacs is the point man for this patrol. Jake, you and Whispers stay a half step or so behind him, on his left side. Isaacs knows the direction to take, however, you are in charge of steering. If Whispers detects an ambush, you tell Isaacs and he’ll tell me. If Whispers senses booby traps or trip wires, you tell Isaacs the route that he needs to take to avoid them. When you give him a new direction, keep in mind the rest of us are behind you in a ‘V’ formation that will be about a hundred yards wide. Or think of it this way, the last man on each side will be fifty yards to your right or left, so account for that when you are avoiding the trap. That’s what I mean when I say that you were in charge of steering.”

*********

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.

Another Place - Episode 13

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Thirteen

I guess I dozed some, but I woke up every time Johnson moved or moaned. Finally, he went to sleep and I did, too. I woke as the sun was rising, not because of the sun, but because Whispers whined in my ear. He whined so softly, the sound wasn’t audible three feet away. I opened my eyes, but didn’t move. I quickly scanned the small clearing where we were lying, but I couldn’t see or hear anything that could have alarmed Whispers. I put my hand on his head and asked, “What is it, Whispers?” We lay there silently for a few seconds when, suddenly, I had a picture in my mind of two men and a large animal coming around a bend in a trail.

Very slowly, I raised myself up on one knee, and looked carefully over the top of the grass that hid us from view. I heard voices. In a few seconds, two men, leading a water buffalo, appeared around a bend on a narrow trail just beyond the rice paddies. They went directly to a small rice paddy, a hundred yards from us.

For the rest of the day, I listened to them and, occasionally, watched them as they worked. At no time did they show that they noticed anything amiss. At dusk, they led the water buffalo away in the direction from which they had arrived.

Night fell and the moon rose, a signal for the cricket concert to begin. I guessed that it was near midnight when I heard voices again. Aware that I was awake, Whispers didn’t whine. I noted the crickets had quit chirping. I carefully raised my head and looked towards the trail the farmers had used earlier. I stopped breathing when I saw many men moving east on the road. Dressed in loose black pants and shirts, they appeared more like shadows than men, but I knew they weren’t shadows; they were Viet Cong.

For fifteen minutes, I watched them pass by. I estimated there were two companies of them, roughly 300 men, as well as I could figure. Then, as quickly as they came, they were gone. In seconds, the crickets were singing again as if nothing had happened, and I knew we were safe for a while.

In that instant, I recalled what Captain Kennedy had said when I told him that I wanted to be a scout dog handler more than anything in the world.

“Remember those words when a year or so from now you find yourself lying in a rice paddy, with your dog lying beside you, both of you too afraid to breathe, because you’re surrounded by a company of Viet Cong moving along a supply trail less than a hundred feet away. Remember those words then, and stay real quiet, until Charlie has cleared the area.”

I remembered, and I grinned despite our situation, or maybe because of it. I looked at Whispers and, as crazy as it might sound, I knew it had been worth it.

I checked Johnson who was moaning softly and showing signs of regaining consciousness. He began to moan louder. In a whisper, I told him I was going to give him more morphine and within seconds, the farm boy from Kansas was back in the morphine-induced land of no pain.

An hour later, I heard faint explosions coming from the east. I knew the VC I had watched go past had launched a surprise attack somewhere, but I didn’t have a clue where.

The sound of fighting was over in minutes. Forty-five minutes passed and I heard the VC returning. This time as I watched them pass, they didn’t seem like shadows, not scary at all. They were just a bunch of people on the way home from work. Having relieved themselves of the rockets, mortar rounds, and ammunition they had been carrying earlier, they were traveling much quicker than before. Obviously hurrying to get back into hiding before daylight exposed them.

Watching them, I realized that they were just like everyone on the planet who had a job - more eager to get home than they were to go to work. I shook off my trance and made some notes about numbers and armaments.

When they were gone, I knew there would be no more surprises. So I lay down beside Whispers and slept. He woke me when the farmers showed up again for work a few hours later.

At some point between my first and second sighting of the VC, I realized just how serious this was. I wasn’t thinking about this patrol, because I thought we would be all right with this one. I was thinking about Vietnam, the war, and our part in it. We had to survive for almost twelve months and, with the first two days being what they had been, I knew the odds were against us. It doesn’t register when you’re thirteen thousand miles from a war and someone tells you there’s a good chance you’ll die in it. But it becomes a whole new ball game when you realize – suddenly realize – that it is probably going to happen. I sat with that thought for a long time, and then I put my arm around Whispers.

“Boy, I’m going to do everything I can to get us through this, and I know you’ll be doing the same.”

Whispers whined quietly.

“If we make it, you can be sure I’ll do whatever it takes to get us both back home again. In fact, Whispers, I’m not leaving here without you. You can count on that.”

*********

The LURPS returned on schedule. They had seen no sign of the enemy. I reported what happened during the night. Barzuto pulled a small notebook from his fatigue jacket and began taking notes about the time the VC arrived, when they returned, how many there were, and how they were equipped. When he had all the information, he said, “Jake, that’s what we came out here to find out. Hell, the rest of us didn’t see a living soul. We could have just sent you and Whispers.” He laughed and closed his notebook, adding, “You’ll probably get a medal for this.”

Williams rigged a stretcher for Johnson and gave him another shot of morphine. We carried him back to the Landing Zone where the Greyhounds arrived with the first wave of infantry about thirty minutes after we got there. The infantrymen unloaded and began assembling in the Landing Zone as we took their places in the first three helicopters in the formation. In less than a minute, we were heading back to Bearcat.

I’d been in Vietnam less than three days, my first patrol was history, and Whispers and I were still alive.

“That’s not bad,” I thought.

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.

Another Place Episode 12

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Twelve

The seventeen hour flight had taken a greater toll on me than I realized. The last thing I remember after making my bed was falling onto it. Riley woke me, five hours later. “Get up, Sarge, the CO and the First Sergeant want to meet you and give you a quick briefing on the mission.”

As I entered the orderly room, I saw the First Sergeant, sitting behind a bare desk. He stood and came toward me with his hand outstretched. Towering at least 6’5”, he was as black as any man I’d ever seen. Somehow he’d managed to get his fatigues starched. The starched uniform and his lean ramrod-straight bearing made him an ideal candidate for a U.S. Army recruiting poster. He smiled, shook my hand, and said, “Jake, it’s good to have you on the team.” Before I could say anything, he called over his shoulder in the general direction of the only office, “Sir, Jake is here.”

At the announcement, I heard rustling in the office and in seconds Captain Steve Petty, who appeared to be all of sixteen years old, joined us. Captain Petty was maybe an inch taller than Riley whom I had pegged at 5’6” or 5’7”. He was pale like someone who was seldom in the sun, and he wore wire rim glasses, which reminded me of a photo I’d seen of a prairie school teacher around the turn of the century.

Out of habit, I came to attention as soon as he walked into the room. He raised his hand and said, “That’s not necessary here, Jake. We’re a line unit. It’s performance that matters here; frankly, we don’t much care about appearance.”

“That’ll take some getting used to,” I said.

They all laughed, especially Riley who was typing a report and listening to us at the same time.

The First Sergeant suggested, “Let’s go around to the mess hall and have a cup of coffee, and we’ll brief you. Sergeant Lands will meet us there.” As we left the orderly room, Riley said, “First Sergeant, would you bring me a cup of coffee when you come back?”

I looked at Riley. He was a bit rumpled, which I suspected was the way he always looked. He leaned toward the heavy side – solid - with thick, black-rimmed glasses. It occurred to me ‘the Company Commander looked like a 16-year-old, the First Sergeant was Army all the way, and the Company Clerk looked like he belongs on a farm. They were as unalike in appearance as three men could be, yet at the same time, in little things, like Riley asking the First Sergeant to bring him a cup of coffee, and the way they didn’t defer to rank but rather to knowledge when telling a story, led me to know that these three were a competent team. They were men who got the job done without wasted effort, fanfare, or second thought. Time confirmed that assessment.

When we got to the mess hall, we found Lands sitting at a table, reading a paperback, and sipping a cup of coffee. We got our coffee and joined him. We were the only ones in the mess hall.

The First Sergeant began, “Jake, since we work 24 hours a day, the mess hall is always open. There are fewer than a hundred of us in the company when we are at full strength, which isn’t often, by the way. So, we have only one mess hall rather than separate officer, NCO, and enlisted mess halls. While I’m on that subject, have you seen the rest of the company area?”

“Yes. Riley gave me the tour, and I feel at home already. I guess you know this is my first permanent duty station. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever been out of the state of Georgia so, my head is swimming a bit.”

Captain Petty laughed and said, “Jake, trust me, in a week you’ll think you’ve been here forever. And, speaking of time, it’s going to be a factor soon, and it will take you longer today than normal to get ready. Let’s jump into the briefing.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. And my work in Vietnam began.

The First Sergeant said. “Captain Petty and I weren’t here when you signed in because we were with the 9th Division Pathfinders, checking the Landing Zone that will be the site of a major insertion forty-eight hours from now. The LZ is secure and the Pathfinders left a squad there to make sure it stays that way. In a little over an hour Riley will take you and Lands and your dogs to the staging area where you’ll meet the LURP team you’ll be working with.”

The First Sergeant looked at the Company Commander, who picked up the briefing. “Jake, we won’t say the mission is going to be routine because nothing is ever routine in Vietnam. From the time that you, Lands, and your dog’s get on the choppers with the LURPS, you have to act as if you are in enemy territory because you are. Your first and most important lesson in Vietnam is, pay attention. You don’t have the luxury of daydreaming, not even here on Bearcat when you’re walking to the PX, or when you’re in the shower or sitting in this mess hall.”

The First Sergeant pointed to a diagonal hole through the north wall and then pointed at an identical hole in the south wall.

“Last week a 9th Division Huey was running at a flight idle while parked on a helipad over fifty yards from here. For no reason that anyone can figure, his tail rotor broke in two. Half of it came through the mess hall; we don’t know where it stopped, because we haven’t found it yet. When it happened, there were a dozen guys in here. They said it sounded like a fifty caliber round, so they all hit the floor as it passed through. Always pay attention. Save your daydreams for the plane ride back to the States. Lands, give Jake an idea of how the patrol will work.”

“Jake, you and I won’t know the direction the patrol plans to take. In fact, only the Patrol Leader and his NCOIC (Noncommissioned Officer In Charge) will know which is fine by me. I still remember my first patrol, a five-day sweep. Two or three days into it, I wondered who knew where we were going, and then I wondered if someone had told me and I’d forgotten,” we laughed, then he continued. “Today you’ll be in the rear just to observe. After this one, more than likely you and Whispers will be alone on your next and all other patrols. Then you will be with the point man. Even then, you don’t have to know where you’re going. You and Whispers only have two jobs: first, you two have to make sure the patrol doesn’t walk into an ambush; and, second, that they don’t walk into booby traps or stumble over trip wires. Do you have any questions?”

I laughed. “I guess I don’t know enough to ask a question.”

“You’ll have plenty of questions in a few hours,” Captain Petty said. We finished our coffee and left the mess hall. Lands and I went back to our room. There Lands began laying out the equipment he would take, while helping me do the same. When we had our personal gear ready, we went to Supply, where Staff Sergeant Ferguson went through a forty-eight hour recon patrol checklist with us. After that, he issued us extra ammunition for our .45 automatics and a supply of c-rations.

With all the gear stacked on the counter, Ferguson grinned and said, “Well, boys, that’s all I can do for you; may the luck of the Irish be with you.”

We went to the kennel where Lieutenant Adams, the unit Veterinarian, gave us a report on the condition of our dogs. “Jake, I’ve just finished checking Whispers and, as I’m sure you know, he is in great shape.”

Then, he turned to Lands and said, “You should be in as good shape as Ringo.”

They laughed. “Doc, you know I’m in better shape than that old gray beard.”

“Lands, that dog wasn’t old until he started working with you. I think you’ve scared him.”

We laughed and went outside to get the dogs. I took one look at Whispers and knew that he knew this was the real deal, the moment we’d been training for.

At the staging area, Lands introduced me to the LURPS. There were twelve of them, all seasoned veterans from their appearance, led by two men. The first, Lieutenant Barzuto, was an intense, lean, handsome man. The second, Staff Sergeant Rice, was a tall, slow-talking Southerner who reminded me of many of the boys I’d known in Valdosta. There was one radioman and a medic, they, like Lands and I, wore .45 automatics. The rest of the LURPS had a .45 plus an M16 or M79 grenade launcher. The patrol did not have a machine gun, mortar, or heavier weapon.

The Greyhounds, a company of the 214th Combat Aviation Battalion, took us to the Landing Zone in three lightly armed Hueys called Slicks. The Slicks were escorted by two Gunships, Hueys with Gatling guns, rocket launchers, and M-60 machine guns suspended by bungee cords from the door frame on each side. The machine guns were for the Door Gunner and the Crew Chief.

The ten minute flight to the Landing Zone was as uneventful as a Fort Benning training exercise. In fact, the patrol could have been just another training exercise, at least for the first four hours.

An hour past full dark, we were crossing a large open field between the jungle and some rice paddies when I heard a sound that reminded me of the sound of a roman candle just after it’s lit, except the sound ended with an explosion about as loud as a cherry bomb or M50. I heard Corporal Williams, the LURP Medic, say, “Oh, shit.”

Immediately from the darkness someone shouted, “Medic.”

Williams said, “Stay with me, Jake. That explosion was a Bouncing Betty, which means we’ve got a man down, because Betties never miss.”

I’d learned about Bouncing Bettys in Ranger Training. Unlike a regular mine, their purpose wasn’t to kill, but to injure one man. That strategy insured that two, maybe three men would be out of action—the injured man and one or two to take care of him and guard him until the medevac chopper arrived.

We found the injured LURP by following the sound of people moving around in the darkness. It was Corporal Johnson, a Kansas farm boy. The Lieutenant and Sergeant Rice were already beside the wounded LURP. I heard Rice say, “You’re going to be fine, Johnson…you’ll be fine.”

Corporal Williams quickly examined the wound, a jagged gash on his upper thigh. In the moonlight, I could see the pain on Johnson’s face. Williams applied a pressure bandage.

“Johnson, in a few minutes I’m going to give you some morphine. It will take away the pain. You were lucky, my friend, normally Bettys tear out a guy’s guts. Be glad that you are a tall drink of water.”

With the bleeding stopped, Williams gave Johnson an injection of morphine and told the Lieutenant, “He’s lucky. The shrapnel missed the artery. I’ve stopped the bleeding, and he’ll be fine, but there is no way he can go any further.”

Without hesitation, Lieutenant Barzuto said, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Jake, I know you are new in country and you thought this was a training mission, and it was until a few minutes ago, then you graduated. I want you to stay with Johnson until we come back. We can’t call for a dust-off, because it would give away our position. Williams will give you some extra morphine, bandages, and water. No matter what happens, stay quiet. If you hear or see the VC do not make contact. Do not fire unless you are fired on. Do you understand?”

I was still marveling at how rapidly everything had changed, but somehow I managed to say, “Yes, Sir, I understand.”

Within seconds the LURPS along with Lands and Ringo, were gone, leaving Whispers and me alone with a drugged and unconscious Johnson. I looked around the area. The half-moon and light breeze worked together to create strange shadows over the landscape. The only noise was the continuous sound of crickets. It seemed as though the three of us had been alone in that place forever.

**********

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.

Another Place Another Time - Episode 11

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Eleven

At Bien Hoa, twenty-four hours later, Whispers and I said good-bye to James and Jimbo when they boarded a Huey for transport up-country to LZ (Landing Zone) Sally thirty miles north of the old Imperial City of Hue. Whispers and I waited in the Transit Personnel area for transport to our first permanent duty station.

About thirty minutes after we landed, we were sitting on a patch of grass just outside the door of the Transit Personnel building when a dusty deuce-and-a-half slammed to a stop on the street thirty feet from us. A Corporal, as dusty as the truck he was driving, leaned out the window, clipboard in hand. He looked at me, and then he looked at Whispers and back to the clipboard. When he looked up again he was grinning, “You must be Jacobson.”

“That’s me, and this is Whispers.” With that, I stood, picked up my duffel bag in one hand, and started to reach for Whispers’s large traveling cage with the other.

Before I could pick it up, the Corporal jumped from the cab of the truck and said, “I’ll get it, Sarge.”

“That’s all right, Corporal. I’ve lugged it halfway around the world.”

He took the cage out of my hand and said, “I understand Sarge, but you were alone then. Now, you and Whispers are home, and you don’t have to do everything by yourself anymore.”

I don’t know why, but for a second I thought I was going to cry. I’d been in the Army for almost a year and a half, and in all that time, I’d not had a permanent duty assignment, a home. I turned my head and coughed so the corporal wouldn’t notice my discomfort. It’s not good for a sergeant to be caught crying over something like that.

********

We loaded the duffel bag and the cage in the back of the empty deuce-and-a-half, and I started to lift Whispers into the back when the Corporal said, “You’re not listening to me, Sarge. You and Whispers ride in front with me. You’re out of school now.”

We settled in the cab and the Corporal said, “Sorry, Sarge, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Riley, the Company Clerk.”

We shook hands across Whispers. Then Riley fired up the deuce-and-a half.

As we turned out of the gate of the air base onto a heavily traveled, two-lane road, Riley said, “We’re headed for Camp Bearcat. It’s about twelve miles from here, near a hamlet called Long Than. Bearcat is three hundred acres the Corps of Engineers hacked out of the jungle. It’s the home of 9th Infantry Division, and we are part of the 9th.”

Crowds of Vietnamese civilians lined both sides of the narrow street. The street itself was full of military buses, Jeeps, and deuce-and-a-halves, not to mention hundreds of bicycles, cyclos, and motor scooters, with an occasional car thrown in for good measure. In a half mile, we crossed Highway 1, with the help of an MP directing traffic at the major intersection. Once we crossed Highway 1, traffic thinned.

“What’s this place, Riley?” I asked.

“This is Long Binh, Sarge. It’s mostly Army; however, the Red Cross, USO, and a few of the aircraft engine manufacturers and other major suppliers have offices here. There are many different outfits here, mostly headquarters units and supply units.” He pointed at a one-story metal building that must have covered an acre. “That’s the Finance Center for the whole III Corp area. I go there once a month to pick up our payroll.”

“Riley, when we crossed the road the only security I saw at the perimeter of Long Binh was a chain-link fence with a little concertina wire on top. There wasn’t much more protection on the perimeter of the air base. Isn’t this a war zone?”

Riley laughed, “I don’t understand it either, Sarge. It’s almost like the top brass think this place is immune because it’s big.”

“Is Bearcat like this, Riley?”

Corporal Riley laughed sarcastically and said, “No, Sarge, Bearcat is nothing like this, and nobody thinks Bearcat is immune, not the brass, not the VC, and I sure as hell don’t think it.”

Twenty minutes after we left Long Binh, we reached the hamlet of Long Than where we turned left onto a wide, and obviously heavily used, dirt road. “We’re almost there now Sarge,” Riley said.

The road was full of traffic going in both directions, much of it bicycles and motor scooters ridden by Vietnamese. “Who are these people, Riley?”

“They’re civilians who work on Camp Bearcat, Sarge. Some do the jobs that G.I’s don’t want to do, like cleaning barracks, KP, Latrine Duty and other stuff like that. Some of them, especially those who speak some English, work in the PX and the motor pools and supply depots.”

“It’s hardly what I expected. But then, I hadn’t known enough to expect anything.”

Riley laughed, “I know what you mean. I’ll never forget my first day in-country.”

We drove past the MP at the main gate, with only a cursory wave passing between him and Riley. A couple of blocks later Riley turned left at the intersection of what appeared to be the main street through the camp. In the next mile we passed various 9th Division infantry and support units, helicopter units of 9th Division and 1st Aviation Brigade, an Australian helicopter unit, and an infantry battalion of the Royal Thai Army. Almost at the end of the compound, Riley turned left. At the corner, as we turned, I saw a small sign with the outline of a German Shepherd’s head and the single line, “9th IPDS (Infantry Patrol Dog Scout).” I patted Whispers’s head and he turned toward me.

“We’re home, Whispers.”

He wagged his tail.

*********

The 9th IPDS was arranged like the Scout Dog Training Center. However, the construction material and method of building were different. There was a two-story barracks building, a combination orderly room and supply room, a dispensary, and a mess hall, all made of unfinished lumber rather than the white painted oak of Fort Benning. The walls had gaps between each board to provide better ventilation. The buildings had no solid walls. To keep out mosquitoes and other insects, fine screen, like that used in a screened porch or door screen, covered the inside walls. There were a couple of outbuildings that were obviously showers and latrines. Behind the long kennel, there were a dozen tents and as many small Airstream camper trailers.

Riley pointed toward the tents.

“Those belong to the senior NCOs, E-7 and higher, and the trailers belong to the officers. I’m going to take you to the kennel first. That’s standard procedure, Sarge. You see, getting Whispers comfortable is more important than getting you settled in.”

“That makes sense to me, and I’m sure it will suit Whispers just fine,” I said, as I rubbed the big dog behind the ears.

Riley stopped in front of the kennel.

“Take the cage and Whispers, Sarge; I’ll put your duffel bag in your room. Dr. Adams is the Vet. He or one of the Vet Techs will check Whispers in.”

*******

Thirty minutes later, I left the kennel. Whispers, checked in and fed, was sound asleep. When I walked into the orderly room, I saw Riley hammering an old typewriter. At the sound of the door opening and without looking up, he called out, “I’ll be right with you, just hang on.”

He typed a few more lines, pulled the sheet of paper out of the typewriter, gave it a quick look, and then swiveled around in his battered desk chair. “Oh, I didn’t know it was you, Sarge.”

“That’s fine, Riley. I’m not in any hurry.”

He made a sweeping gesture that took in the entire orderly room as he said, “Well, as you can see, I’m alone. The Old Man and the First Sergeant are in the field helping plan a major campaign. They should be back in a couple of hours. The First Sergeant told me to get you signed in and give you the tour.”

********

I signed in and Riley said, “That officially changes your status from ‘In Transit’ to ‘Present for Duty.’ Then he looked at my signature, glanced at a copy of my orders and said, “From now on, you’re ‘Jake.’ The First Sergeant likes to keep everything simple, which means short. Wisnowski is Wiz, Brubaker is Brew, Lamoreaux is Lam, and since I know Jacobson is going to be Jake, we might as well save ourselves some time, Jake.”

We both laughed.

“That’s fine by me, Riley. Jake it is.”

We walked out of the orderly room and stopped a few feet into the company area.

“Okay, let me show you the area,” Riley said. “Supply is just around the corner on the backside of the orderly room. Sergeant Ferguson is our Supply Sergeant. He knows that you’ve just signed in, and he is ready to issue your equipment, but first I’m going to take you to your room and introduce you to your roommate. Then, you can go over and do your supply business with Sergeant Ferguson.” He identified the rest of the buildings in the company area and began walking toward the barracks.

“Downstairs is an open bay for grades E-3 and E-4; we partitioned the upstairs into “rooms” - and I use that term loosely. The rooms are for NCOs, E-5 and E-6. All the NCOs who live here are handlers, except Stevens, who is the medic, and Walters, who takes care of Enlisted Personnel Records and Financial matters. That includes pay, so get to know him well. Sergeant Ferguson bunks in the supply room, and I have a room just off the main area of the orderly room. All the E-7s and E-8s are in the tents that I showed you when we came in, and the officers are in the trailers. Let’s go up and meet your roommate.”

Unfinished 4X8 sheets of plywood, nailed to 2X4 studs, partitioned the second floor into NCO rooms. Each room had a door, complete with a doorknob and a lock. The rooms impressed me. For a year and half, I’d lived in open bays. On each door was a small metal frame. Each frame had two slots for plastic nametags.

Midway down the aisle, Riley stopped and knocked on a door on the right. A voice called, “Come on in Riley, it’s open.”

As we stepped into the room, I noticed the frame held two names – “Lands” and beneath it, “Jake”. I knew that I’d probably heard my first name for the last time.

The room had two beds, which were sections of a bunk unit, each raised by 18-inch extenders under the legs, to make room for a footlocker and other gear to slide underneath. Besides the beds and footlockers, the room had two metal folding chairs, two upright gym lockers and an overhead fan to keep the warm air moving.

A man of medium height, clad only in boxer shorts and T-shirt, was lying on one bed. When we entered the room, he stood, grinned, and held out his hand, all in one easy motion.

“Hi, Jake. I’m Lands. I know you just got here, but I don’t know if you are new in-country, or if you’re coming from another unit.”

As we shook hands, I said “It’s good to meet you, and to answer your question, I’m about as new in-country as they come. Riley picked me and my dog, Whispers, up at Bien Hoa less than an hour ago.”

His grin grew wider and he pointed toward the empty bed that was obviously mine.

“Well, let me be the first to welcome you to the Vietnam Hilton.”

Lands turned to Riley and told him, “I’ll take Jake over to Supply if you need to get back to the orderly room. The First Sergeant asked me to brief him on today’s mission and that will give us a chance to do it.”

After Riley left, Lands said, “Like most of us, you are going to get off to a flying start. We have a job laid on for this afternoon. Ringo and I, and you and Whispers, are going on a forty-eight hour patrol with the LURPs. When we’re done, two 9th Division Infantry Companies will be inserted into the area.

“The first wave of choppers that bring them in will take us out…assuming all goes according to plan,” he added with a laugh.

“Come on and we’ll go to Supply and get your basic gear which, by the way, will include a mattress. My suggestion is that you make your bed and get as much sleep as you can before we head out.”

*********

I post two episodes of Another Place Another Time every week

For info on receiving each episode directly on your Kindle click here
Or, if you don’t want to wait, click here to purchase the complete Kindle version of the book.

Currently I’m working on The Mystic Trilogy – the first volume – The Sages – it is posted weekly – click here to read the latest and all previous episodes.