An Interlude With Ackers

On 861, time crawled by like a wounded snake. We were always dirty, because there was no water, except to drink. We bathed when it rained and dry-shaved when we had to. The captain wasn't a stickler about that, and there was NEVER any "spit & polish"------nothing that would reflect any sunlight. We didn't look like Marines. Actually THAT was kind of fun for awhile.

Sometimes we'd be able to just lean against the sandbags and talk about home, and what we'd do when we got back----IF we got back. But at least about twice a week, "Luke" would toss in a half dozen mortar rounds----adjusting as he went along, "walking them" from one side of the hill to the other, hoping to catch somebody out in the open.

We usually got a pre-warning from one of our LP's (Listening Posts) out past the perimeter. They'd hear the faint "bloop" of the enemy mortars, and quickly call in on the radio the old familiar "INCOMING!". That word had become a very nasty part of the language.

While they never attempted to overrun us again, they hit us with mortars every so often just to make our lives miserable. They were very good at landing them wherever they wanted to, but we could all usually dive into our reinforced bunkers in time. I remember ONE mortar attack in particular, and it led to a strange interlude with our Platoon Sergeant.

Our "commode" was a 55-gallon drum cut in half with a couple of boards over it (when it got full, we poured diesel fuel in it and set it on fire, along with whatever garbage we had). I was on my way BACK from there, and............"INCOMING!!!"

When you're not near your own bunker, you jump into the nearest one, hopefully before the first round hits. I jumped into a small bunker on the east corner, and Staff Sergeant Ackers, our Platoon Sergeant jumped in behind me. By now, the first couple of rounds had hit the hill, and they were coming closer to us all the time, as ""Luke" was walking them west-to-east. We pulled our helmets down, our flakvest collars up, and assumed modified "fetal positions" while the rounds were coming in. One of them hit VERY close, the ground shook and dirt filtered down on us between the stacked sandbags.

As the last couple of mortar rounds hit the far slope, we both sat up and shook ourselves off. Ackers was a robust black guy and I'm thinking he was from California like I was. He was usually pretty cool and collected. Not much ever got to him. Ackers was closing in on the end of his 'Nam tour, and had seen considerable action. He was truly one of the "old salts" and this should have just been "another dusting by Luke" to HIM. But for some reason, it wasn't.

"Ain't this some CRAP, Bradbury? "Yeah, it sure IS, Sarge" I replied.

"I don't think you understand, Brad'..........THIS is a bunch of CRAP!" (we'll use "crap" instead of what he actually said)..........I said "Yeah Sarge, it IS crap!"

"I STILL don't think you get it!" he barked, as his eyes got intense.............."THIS IS BULLCRAP!!!"

I sat there half-stiff, not knowing how to respond, as he almost went into a rage. He got up and started to climb out of the bunker back into the trench. I remember him turning around as he was leaving, and back to a normal voice, (normal for HIM anyway), he said "THINK about it, Bradbury............all the firepower the United States has, and we've got to sit up here EVERY G--D--- DAY and TAKE THIS CRAP!!"

Well, I sat there awhile and DID "think about it", and the more I thought, the madder I got. Our "Commander-in-Chief" (LBJ at the time), had a TREMENDOUS arsenal at the other end of his "red phone." He could blow North Vietnam off the map with a single phone call, and WE'd be on our way back to DaNang and then HOME in a WEEK or so!

The only aircraft we ever saw overhead was OURS. I'd never even seen the TANKS I was trained to destroy. All we were dealing with, was a bunch of "Lukes" with AK-47's and small field artillery. So..........Why WERE we exchanging bullets in the high grass when we COULD just drop an "A-Bomb" or two and be DONE with this? Why were we playing HIS game in HIS jungle?

Nobody will ever have all the answers, and my 20-years of life didn't lend the political education I have now, but as Lamont has indicated from time to time, there WAS a lot of money being made on that war. Aircraft fuel, ammunition, food, bombs/missiles and other ordinance from the depots back home, medical supplies, tanks, trucks, jeeps, etc. War unfortunately creates more jobs than you might think.

Then of course, there's "political correctness" and "world opinion" if we didn't do everything just right, and play by the rules, whether THEY did or not.

***When you've read "bazookaman posts" in the past, where I've gotten onto the Bush White House, and now the Obama White House for pussy-footing around with this "prim, proper & polite diplomatic conflict" and getting our guys killed for no reason--------it all stems back to that day in the bunker with SSGT Ackers***

The INCREDIBLE arsenal we have today--------and we still won't use it. We're still wasting our finest men and women, when we don't have to. And they still sit on their congressional butts and do nothing. It's still a "rich man's war but a poor man's fight."

"You've got a bad attitude, Bradbury!"...................yeah, I guess I have.