The Chaos of Combat

An personal anecdote from my past.

A firefight in a crowded marketplace:

In late October or early November of 1968, I had the day off work (which didn't happen often) and went off base into Phan Rang City. I was carrying a .357 Magnum that I'd bought from a G.I. who had gone back to the states a few weeks earlier. The revolver held 6 rounds and I had an additional 2 loads in my pocket (18 rounds total).

A little after noon, about 12 - 15 (my estimate) Viet Cong attacked the marketplace and started shooting the place up. I think it was mostly a harassment attack because some of them were firing upwards. I drew my weapon and dived into an open storefront. The papa-san who's store it was was dragging out an old WW2 vintage carbine from under the counter and I damn near shot him right there. He looked at me, dropped the weapon, shook his head "no", then pointed out at the square. I nodded and he pick the rifle back up and we both crouched behind the counter watching what was happening outside.

After about 15 minutes of sporadic firing the Vietnamese Police, called Quan Com (we called them "white mice" because of their white helmets) showed up, took one look at the situation and split (mice aren't known for their bravery). A very short while later, maybe 5 minutes, a ROK (Korean Army) 2-1/2 ton truck with quad .50's mounted on the bed drove into the square and opened fire.

The papa-san and I hugged the earth as bullets went whistling over our heads everywhere. In another 5 or 6 seconds it was all over. I never fired a shot, but that's probably good 'cause even using both hands I'm not sure I could have hit anything I was shaking so bad. Even though I was in uniform, I holstered my weapon and came out of the shop slowly holding my arms up and out from my body, my HANDS clearly visible. After the ROK sargent nodded at me, I let my hands down and we started gathering the dead.

I counted about 150 bodies, more than half of them were women. About 30 or so had some sort of weapon, many of them appeared to be WW2 vintage. 15 had AK-47s and were almost certainly Viet Cong, the rest were probably just shopkeepers like the papa-san I'd survived with. The V.C. killed about 6 or 7 people before the ROKs showed up.

The "official" report?
30+ V.C. attacked Phan Rang City market and killed over 100 innocent civilians before they were neutralized by ROK troops.

I shit you not.
That was my first inkling that things were not what they seemed in Vietnam.
Our government was lying out it's ass to us. (to cover said ass)

My point?
During the firefight, things were so chaotic I couldn't tell who was who.
Since everyone else was in "civilian clothes" (including the VC) there was no way to tell friend from foe. And I had so much adrenaline rushing through my body, my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't have aimed the pistol with any accuracy if my life had depended on it (which I thought it DID).

I qualified as an expert marksman three times while I was in the USAF.
Twice with M-16, once with M-1 carbine.
Before going to Vietnam, I was a member of the Kingsley Field Pistol Team (.45 auto) so I'm a pretty damn good shot with a pistol too. I also spent 3 days in "combat training" before shipping out to Vietnam (with live ammunition).

I was college age back then, but better trained than most civilians outside of maybe the police.

Untill you've experienced combat, most people have no idea what it is like.
Armed students or teachers at VT would almost certainly have resulted in a higher body count with many of them being shot "by accident".

But that's just the opinion of someone who has "been there, done that".


Mac

Fare thee well, Billy Pilgrim

In 1976 former California Governor Jerry Brown ran for the Democratic Nomination for President of the United States. I got involved in his campaign and eventually was elected as an alternate-Delegate to the National Convention, held in New York City. Jerry was competing with the Governor of a southern state (Georgia's James Earl "Jimmy" Carter).

Now it was 1992, and again Jerry Brown was running for the Presidential nomination. The Convention was again held in New York City. His competition was another southern Governor (Arkansas' William Jefferson "Bill" Clinton). It was deja vu all over again. This time I was elected as a full Delegate.

On the last night of the Convention, Clinton having won and picked Al Gore of Tennessee as his running mate, Jerry still had campaign money left over. So he threw a party for his 612 delegates and his campaign staff. The party started around 7:30, but as usual I was a little late getting there.

I arrived around 9, to a very large room filled almost to overflowing. The main crowd was milling about, slowly circling the room, engaged in conversation with newly made friends and political allies. Slowly circling around the center of the room where stood one lone old man, soft drink in hand, watching them circle. Everyone was aware of the old man in the middle, but seemed too awestruck to actually engage him in conversation.

Being the shy and retiring type that I am, I strode forward, offered my hand and spoke: "Some people seem to think I'm crazy when I tell them this" (he gave me a look that said he was prepared to find agreement with those people), "but I recall buying a book when I was a teenager. A book of short stories. And I could swear they were written by YOU. The book was titled 'Canary in a Cat House'."
"Oh, so YOU'RE the one." he replied, smiling and taking my hand with a firm shake.
(Obviously the book didn't sell well.)

And that is how I met Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
My all-time favorite author.
For the next three hours we conversed, uninterrupted by the remainder of the crowd. I don't recall what other specific words were spoken, but I remember the opening moment as if it happened minutes ago. And I always will. I can still feel the surprising firmness of his grip (he was almost 70 back then).

Eventually Governor Brown showed up, came over with his entourage and greeted us, and whisked Mr. Vonnegut away into the night. I interpreted the look and wave of the hand he gave me as they left as a small "thank you". Whether for rescuing him from his aloneness in the midst the crowd, or for engaging in conversation interesting enough to keep him from being bored or perhaps a little of both.

I am deeply saddened at his passing.

Fare thee well, Billy Pilgrim.
Good night, Mr. Rosewater.
Say "Hello" to Wanda June for me and wish her a Happy Birthday.
Good Luck on Tralfamadore.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
November 11, 1922 - April 11, 2007


Mac