An LA Cop. John Bowermaster
the last few nights; he assumed it had been accidentally left behind.
The Claymore’s detonator cap was missing. Someone had stuck the claymore in the ground on its metal legs. The lieutenant sent word for the last man to grab the claymore and bring it with him to Crockett.
When Bill McDonald reached the claymore, he picked it up. The lieutenant didn’t check the claymore for booby traps. There was a trip wire attached to one leg buried in the dirt.
When Bill picked up the claymore, the booby trap exploded. The blast did not detonate the claymore. The explosion was strong enough to blow off Bill’s foot at his ankle. Bill fell to the ground. The lieutenant radioed for a chopper to transport Bill back to Cu Chi.
The medic put a tourniquet on Bill’s leg to stop the bleeding. He gave Bill something for pain.
When the chopper landed, several men carried Bill to the chopper. One guy grabbed his helmet.
The soldier laid the helmet on the floor of the chopper next to Bill. Ed noticed two names written on Bill’s helmet, Mary and Jennifer. The chopper lifted off heading Southeast toward Chu Chi. Another soldier picked up Bill’s gear and rifle.
The platoon continued back to Crockett. They learned that Bill went to Japan for medical treatment then returned home to Pennsylvania, to his wife, Mary, and daughter, Jennifer.
After Bill’s chopper lifted off, Ed heard men talking about the VC that set the explosive. Some called the VC Charlie, while others called them Charles. Ed asked Robert to explain the difference between Charlie and Charles.
“When VC attack, they act like they don’t care if they live or die. Some guys give them more respect by calling them Charles,” said Robert. “As far as I’m concerned, if they’re in that big a hurry to meet their maker, I’ll arrange the meeting!”
The platoon returned to Crockett. Ed planned on grabbing Cliff’s last canteen. Locate his bunker and learn how to live on a firebase. The first thing he’d do was take off his wet boots and socks and let his feet dry out.
The second item on his agenda was to find a cigarette to burn the leeches off his body. Robert told Ed during a break in the jungle don’t pull the leech off his body. Part of the head would remain buried in his skin, and the bite would get infected.
Everyone used cigarettes to burn the leeches off. They attached themselves to the men’s bodies when they walked in the swamp. If you didn’t check the first chance you got, you would notice them later.
After the leeches gorged themselves with blood, they let go. By then, the leeches were big as cigars. When they released themselves, blood would squirt out of them, causing a large bloodstain inside your fatigues. Ed knew he had hitchhikers inside his clothes because of the bloodstains on the legs of his fatigues.
Ed’s thoughts about relaxing changed when Sergeant Waters walked over to meet the platoon returning to the firebase through the concertina wire. Sergeant Waters hollered at First Squad, “Gather around me before you go to your bunkers.” A dozen men gathered around Sergeant Waters.
“You men get something to eat. Clean your weapons and get some rest. We’re leaving after dark to set an ambush for Charlie.”
One guy wanted to know, “How far out are we going, Sergeant?”
Sergeant Waters told the man, “About a click. So get some rest.”
Ed did the math in his head. A click is a thousand meters, a little over three feet to a meter. That’s over three thousand feet. If a mile is five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet, then Waters is talking over a half mile back into that mosquito-infested jungle at night. Great!
Earlier that day, the point man was using his machete to chop a path through the brush and trees for the platoon to follow. He killed a viper snake everyone called a two-step snake. He sent word back down the column where it was lying so everyone was aware as they walked past the snake.
Ed asked, “What’s a two-step snake?”
Robert looked back at Ed. “If it bites you, you’ll take two steps and die!”
Ed’s full attention was on Robert. He wanted to know if he was serious. “Are they that poisonous?”
“That’s what everyone says. I don’t plan on being the one that finds out!”
After dark, First Squad saddled up with their gear and left the firebase through the barbed wire, walking past the claymore mines placed in front of each bunker in case of a ground attack during the night.
Ed concluded that day in the jungle, Vietnam didn’t have ordinary mosquitoes like in the States. which you slap or flick off when you notice the pesky things bother you.
Not the Vietnam mosquitoes he encountered in the jungle that day. You could have put a saddle on those mosquitoes and rode them like a small horse! They convinced Ed to kill one, he’d need his .45 auto or maybe that heavy ass M-60.
Good old American mosquitoes just cause a little bump on your skin with some itching irritation. When Vietnam mosquitoes bite you on the face, the area swells to the size of a saucer. Your face goes numb, you lose all feeling and control of your facial muscles for hours afterward. You look like you’ve suffered a stroke, with your face drooping and your slurred speech.
During a break-in the jungle earlier that day, Ed wasn’t able to discuss his observation of the mosquitoes with Sergeant Johnson. He couldn’t see the Sergeant through all the cigarette smoke caused by the men burning leeches off their bodies!
In Ed’s mind he was certain he saw two mosquitoes standing on the stump of a fallen tree watching him in the jungle. It looked as though they were trying to decide which one of them would drag his ass off into the jungle to feast on later!
The sun was down; it was dark! Not like the city. No streetlights, no vehicle lights, or lights from buildings. Tonight, there was no moonlight. Ed couldn’t remember seeing so many stars in the night sky before.
Ed thought, How could anybody navigate through that jungle in this darkness? Jungle! His thoughts flashed back to that fallen tree where the two mosquitoes were standing! He wondered if they were still hungry. Maybe they found a water buffalo in a rice paddy, killed it, and were busy feasting on the carcass and wouldn’t notice him returning through the jungle.
As the platoon neared their planned ambush site, they walked out of the jungle into a foot-deep water-filled rice paddy. Charlie picked the same location for their ambush site. But they were there first. It was so dark when the first squad stepped into the rice paddy the VC couldn’t see the soldier’s silhouettes. They only heard the water being disturbed by men walking through it.
The squad was in a single-file column with the dog handler and K-9 in the lead. He could just see the person in front of him as he stepped out from the jungle into the water. Charlie opened fire with their automatic AK-47s on first squad.
The sounds of multiple crack-crack-crack came from the hedgerow seventy yards in front of them. Green tracers came streaming out of the trees toward First Squad. Men dived into the mud and water wherever they were standing, trying to avoid the incoming rounds. Men crawled through the muddy soup, searching for the nearest berm to shield them from the bullets striking the water around them.
This was Ed’s first experience in combat. People were trying to kill him. This wasn’t a game or a military training exercise in basic training; it was real. As Ed dived for cover, he glanced at the streams of tracers coming from the jungle in front of him. He remembered seeing the tracers in the reflection on the water.
He counted at least six places where the VC were firing from, submerged in the water, keeping his mouth above the waterline to breathe. He prayed he was out of reach of the incoming rounds striking the water around him as he crawled through the paddies to the first berm he could find.
Ed’s machine gun was up on his back. He held the gun by one of the gun’s bipod legs attached to the gun’s barrel as he crawled through the mud. It was a dangerous balance, keeping his