Experiment One

BODY SURFING THE GULF OF SIAM

GOING TDY - UP COUNTRY

We worked twelve hour days at Detachment 1, but there were exceptions. Because we were 
so near the equator, at elevation degrees north latitude, on the hottest days hard physical 
work was called off. We were free to relax for a few hours.

The next time that happened, Charlie took me to the beach a short walk away. Once 
outside the gate, with beach towels and M16's, we hiked through scorching hot sand 
dunes. You had to wear boots. If you tried flip-flops you’d end up with blistered feet. 
We followed a path through the sand dunes to the white sandy shore of the Gulf of Siam. 
We didn't find out till after the war that that area was probably defoliated with Agent 
Orange.

We arranged our weapons, upright in a triangle, and we waded into the gentle lapping ocean 
waves. Charlie went first, he showed me how to catch a wave. I watched him swim out a 
ways, and soon a wave came along he liked. With a perfectly timed kick, he caught the next 
wave and body surfed his way back to the shallows. I caught on right away, and we rode 
waves until we were exhausted.

Charlie later told me that he’d seen big sharks swimming out there one day out the window 
of a flight to Saigon. But that didn't stop us, we felt we were immune to all danger.

In spite of war, sharks and stinging jellyfish, the long white beach was open for swimming. 
In stormy weather the surf was powerful. We could paddle out, and get a wild ride all the 
way to the shore. The island was a true paradise, I almost felt guilty for being in such a place
with a war going on.

I’d only been on the island a little over a month when my path was changed. One afternoon 
in the generator shack office our supervisor came in with a set of orders.

“Anyone want to volunteer for a ninety day TDY upcountry?”

Of course, I raised my hand immediately, “I’ll go.”

He filled in the details for me. My destination is Detachment 2 of the 620th Tactical Control 
Squadron located on the edge of Pleiku Air Base. Pleiku is located in the central highlands of
Vietnam and some of those mountains get cold. That sounded good. What I didn't know was 
there was serious fighting going on up there.

I volunteered to go to Vietnam for patriotic reasons and for the adventure. So I had every 
reason to volunteer for the temporary duty assignment. Only three months and I’d get to 
come back to the island. Besides, the other guys had been there longer, I was the new guy. 
It was up to me to go.

Pleiku was a turning point for me. For one thing, I wasn't allowed to take my M16 along. 
At that base airmen aren't allowed weapons. Different rules seemed to be based on the low 
possibility of an attack that airmen would be asked to do anything. The Air Force base was 
surrounded by Army and Marines, so we were pretty well protected by real soldiers.

The brass had it figured out that if thousands of airmen had loaded weapons they didn't 
actually need there would be drunken gun fights.  I think the officers were probably right 
because there was always too much booze flowing.

The radar detachment was operated by both USAF and Vietnamese personnel. Under the 
policy of “Vietnamisation,” it was our objective to turn over operations to the host nation. 
When we were gathered together to be introduced to our Vietnamese counterparts I was 
excited to meet them. On the island it was only a USAF operation, at last I’d get a chance 
to know the Vietnamese we were sent to advise.

It was a turning point when it happened. There were about a half dozen VNAF 
(Vietnamese Air Force) gathered but they didn't look happy to see us. An officer made a 
formal introduction, in English and Vietnamese and instead of shaking hands it went the 
other way. Our eger faces were met with their faces of rejection and anger.

The meeting ended when all the VNAF walked away in disgust, leaving us shocked and 
pretty pissed-off. We’d come ten thousand miles to help them, and they disrespect us 
openly like this?

It was a turning point when it happened. There were about a half dozen VNAF 
(Vietnamese Air Force) gathered but they didn't look happy to see us. An officer made a 
formal introduction, in English and Vietnamese and instead of shaking hands it went the 
other way. Our eger faces were met with their faces of rejection and anger.

The meeting ended when all the VNAF walked away in disgust, leaving us shocked and 
pretty much pissed-off. We’d come ten thousand miles to help them, and they disrespect 
us openly like this?

Within a week the base came under what was called a moderate rocket attack. I was 
sleeping in my bunk when around 2AM the alarm blared. Everyone jumped out of bed 
and ran outside to a large sandbag bunker next to the barracks. Sixteen Soviet made 122mm 
rockets hit the base in an attack that lasted a little over an hour.

When the all clear sounded we came out to see the damage, and nobody could go back to 
sleep. Fortunately the mess hall opened and served breakfast and coffee.

A few weeks later there was a much worse attack that went on over two hours. Inside the 
bunker this time I heard praying going on in one dark corner. With every rocket impact 
someone would keep up the count. "Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven." Several of them 
hit close by sending shrapnel hitting the sandbags and shaking things up inside.

None of that quelled by enthusiasm, so when Army Special Forces asked if any of us wanted 
to join them on a public relations trip I volunteered. We took a deuce and a half truck up into 
the mountains to a  Montagnard village. The Montagnard Culture is a distinctive 
dark-skinned race that lived in Vietnam before the arrival of Vietnamese. 
They live separately and speak a different language than the Vietnamese.

The Montagnards were happy to see us, and treated us as honored guests. We were shown to 
seats next to large earth-wear jars. The tall wide clay jars held gallons of rice wine with the 
open tops covered with fresh green banana leaves. I was shown a wooden straw to sip on 
and I took a big mouth-full of their home made rice hooch! It was high powered and after 
visiting the rest of the afternoon we headed back down the mountain. We were feeling no 
pain.

My last excursion off base was the most disappointing, and life changing. I hitched a ride 
with some hardened Army dudes to Pleiku City. On the way we stopped to pick-up other 
soldiers at whore houses. Along with all the joking about the prostitutes we drove past long 
lines of refugees.

Vietnamese who were fleeing the US bombing and artillery attacks that never seemed to stop.
They slowly walked along the side of the road, carrying a few belongings. Lines of desperate 
civilians were moved from their homelands so that area could be bombed into pacification.

The soldiers joking about the prostitutes and the scene of utter human misery was more than 
I could take. Along with the attitude  VNAF, which fit in with what I'd already seen in 
Saigon, the destruction of the land, and the plight of the refugees I turned against the war.

At that point I still felt we got into the war for the right reasons, but it was clear Vietnamese  
didn't want us there. I just wanted to go back to the island.