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.”

*********

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