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It was in the late
Eighties while I was on the road traveling to most of the major U.S. cities
that I began to question my own understanding of the Vietnam War. I felt
somewhat ashamed that in my desire to distance myself from those nitty gritty
days in the Marine Corps I knew really very little about the event or its finite
causes. So, hauling out some disciplines learned in my university life, before I
got in the sales game, I created a
filing system and began to read and commit to some steady research. I also, from time to time, interviewed
fellow veterans I would run across.
I found them in sales meetings, in taxi cabs, or working in my accounts.
Sometimes they would just say a few things and stop. Other times a veteran would sit with me
in a lobby or at a hotel bar and tell his story. “Red Eye To Philadelphia” as a
short story is a compilation of some of these short interviews condensed into a
person, a character who calls
himself simply “Taylor”. In contrast to my account of Seventh Marine
Regiment’s early experience at Qui
Nhon also presented on this site, I
intend this account,” Red Eye” to give the reader, especially the student, a feel for how the Vietnam War changed
in six years time, how Marines entered South
Vietnam earlier and later. How the war experience has occupied and transformed the
minds and deeds of those of us who went to this place long after our departure. In imitation of Frances
FitzGerald’s “Fire In The Lake”, my story begins with a quote from I Chang
a text for ancient Chinese Taoist philosophers. RED EYE TO PHILADELPHIA Book of I Chang The Fifty Eighth
Hexagram-Twee: (pleasure) The Marsh
Below The
Marsh Above ORACLE "The surface of the marsh is
still. The inner marsh seethes with
life Beside it friends sit and
talk. The conversation is easy But the communication between them is
deep."
February, 1987- LAX: Which book? That was the question. Vance Poplar
gripped his leather briefcase in one hand and lugged across his arm a heavy
trench coat he knew he would need in the morning. The echo of endless announcements
drifted in and out of the tiny book shop in the airport mall. It was always the same question when you
got right down to it, he thought.
Twenty bucks for a hard back first edition. What were the odds that you'd get stuck
with a dog? Pay your money and take
your chances he thought laughing to himself as he reached for his
selection. An attractive brunette
brushed by him at the counter.
"Nineteen Fifty Seven." spat
the black woman behind the counter, her hair smartly and meticulously crafted in
jeweled dread locks which bobbled about her long brown neck. He noticed the long
orange fingernails on a hand that rested on the counter impatiently. Poplar peeled a Twenty from a wad
of bills, paid and walked out
toward his departure gate. He was still reeling from the sales quota he had just
received and his mind raced at how he would stay in the game. American Airlines Flight 34 the "Red Eye" as it was commonly known to
the traveling executive set was boarding at half past eleven bound for Philadelphia.
Meetings. Endless meetings.
Conventions. The
marketplace. America. The company had come a long way since
he'd walked off the street into that grimy Brooklyn factory back in Seventy
Two. Five years after he'd left the
Corps. He had walked off the street
into Small's Machine Shop and suddenly his life began to roll. Roll big
time. Poplar, now the top salesman
for IPD Corporation was going home once again loaded with samples, and marketing
data that would surely launch his company to its next plateau. International Pneumatic Devices had
exploded from this small machine shop to a frenetic high tech instrument company
in just eleven years. Poplar knew
and never lost sight of his own rise from a nickel and dime existence in a dumpy
basement apartment on Bleeker Street in New York City.
Scratching and clawing he had eked out his own way. Bearded and quiet, he moved about the
canyons, swallowed up by abrasive Manhattan. It amazed him how women who were as poor
has he, would suddenly disappear only later to be discovered in the windy
circles of Manhattan elite complete with Park Avenue Apartments, ski trips to
Aspen or Switzerland. The crushing
reality, he realized, was if he was going to dig out of that Bleeker Street
hole, it wasn't going to be on his good looks. Now, eighteen years later he was
about to snuggle into his First Class seat with a good book, and prepare to
scream through the night in perfect luxury. A contrast that constantly gave him
great pleasure.
"So how do you like it?" came a voice without a face.
"Pardon?" Poplar looked up from his book and into the relative darkness
of the compartment. A voice came
across the aisle again.
"The book." Suddenly the
face of an African American man appeared. Realizing the circumstance he
instantly switched on his overhead light and Poplar could see he was slight in
frame and well dressed. The man
wore a club tie and an immaculate white shirt. He had been sipping his drink in the
darkness.
"Oh." Poplar clumsily
glanced at the yellow book jacket.
Great black gothic type loomed over a primitive charcoal drawing. The author's name also in black was
printed just beneath it in a curious roman upper and lower case
combination. "A RUMOR OF WAR" the
authors name Phillip Caputo. Poplar
glanced at his watch.
"It's pretty good." said Poplar to the man. "I guess I lost track of
time."
"Actually I should be on the New York flight. It was sold out. Can you believe it? I'd figure the
midnight flight would be wide open. "
"Guess there's a lot of fat cats got to be at work tomorrow morning. “
said Poplar. They both
laughed.
"So you're going to Manhattan when we get in?" asked Poplar.
" Aww, I got some friends in Philadelphia I haven't seen in a while." the
man waved his hands as if it didn't matter where he landed. "What war was the
rumor about?"
The man was making conversation thought Poplar. It's only a few hours or so until we're
down. He was too keyed up to sleep.
What the hell.
"It was the Vietnam War. The book is about the first part of the Vietnam
War." said Poplar.
"Oh." said the Black man. He
did not speak for a long moment. "I
was there but it wasn't at the first part." he said laughing almost
boisterously. Then he lowered his
voice speaking more softly caring perhaps to not wake the sleeping passengers
around them. For the first time
during the flight Poplar noticed two men in the seat behind him who were not
sleeping either. Their lights too
were on and they seemed to work intensely, pouring through green bar reports,
calculating and making notes.
"What branch of the service is the book about?" The man leaned across as he spoke
again. "The Marine
Corps."
"Really? I was in the Marine
Corps."
Poplar looked directly at the man.
"So was I." he said in a
nearly inaudible laugh.
The man smiled in disbelief and looked away to some invisible focal point
in the compartment. Then almost as
quickly. "How long were you in the Corps?"
"Four years. Enlisted." replied Poplar.
"Nam?"
"Yea."
"Stewardess." The men in
back of them piped up. "Could we get some coffee?"
The flight attendant returned with the ships silver and poured aromatic coffee
into china cups. The two men hardly
noticed as they continued to rattle through reams of printouts. "Uhh are we on
time? What time for
Philly?"
"Well, we're on time. But there are some reports of fog from Baltimore to
New York. I'll ask the
captain. There could be
delays. I'll let you know." she
said smiling and glancing toward their work.
"Are you gentlemen OK here?" she turned and spoke to Poplar and the man.
"I could use another Dewer's." said the man. "You?"
"Grand Mariner" Poplar said to the stewardess.
"What year in Nam, man."
"Sixty Five and Sixty Six." spoke Poplar into the
darkness.
"Damn! It’s hard to believe
now that...that the war lasted so long. Sixty Five! Damn!" he said again
savoring the coincidence of their meeting.
Savoring survival. Savoring the moment. Savoring, then shutting down the
thoughts. " Yea, Nam, Laos."
"When were you there.?"
"Seventy One and Seventy Two."
said the man.
"Here are your drinks,
Dewer's and Grand Marnier." Poplar noticed the stewardess's perfect
pastel manicure and caught the slight subtle scent of her
perfume.
"To the Grunts wherever they may be. God bless em." said Poplar. The two men toasted.
"Ladies and Gentlemen this is the captain. We've just received word that
Philadelphia is socked in with pretty dense fog. We'll add on about forty five minutes,
that’ll put us at about Five Thirty in Philadelphia. We'll keep you folks posted on alternate
airports or holding situations if they come up. Just settle back and ask our good flight
attendants if you need anything."
"You know, say, I'm Vance Poplar." They shook hands across the
aisle.
"Everybody calls me Taylor."
"Well you know, I never thought much about it after I left. I mean it. I got out and never looked
back. Never thought about it. I've
read some. A few movies. But I'll be frank with you; I was reading this book
back in the terminal." Poplar held
it to the reading light, “and. there is a lot I still don't know about the
war. A whole lot, here , what, twenty years later. You get what.."
"I hear you. Uhh you in any action?"
"Well yes and no?"
Taylor boomed a laugh at this answer. "Yes and no! You in action man you say a big
YES! Ha!" He laughed again then tried to suppress
it. Then Poplar joined in the laughter.
"Well here’s the thing," more laughter. Poplar sipped his liquor and squared
himself on the arm rest. He was
beginning to enjoy this conversation. "We were there early in the war. In this
book; this guy tells what was happening only about forty miles up the road,
Highway One, from where we were.
Place called Chu Lai. I was
at the Okinawa camp he departed from only nine months after he left, Okinawa,
for the States, you know, on normal
rotation. Camp Schwabb. Ever hear
of Schwabb?"
"YEA! I know where that is.
SCHWABB. Damn!"
"Well. You talk action. Except for one, there weren't any big battles. I
think there was, lets see Ia Drang,
Pleikeu and there were a few other places the Special Forces had set up with the
ARVN units and the Montagnyards. We
didn't know anything about what was going on around us. Ia Drang, happened in November. When we went in,
July of Sixty Five, it was just a little before the shit hit the fan... It was in a place called Qui Nhon. In August we went to a big operation named Operation Starlight.
Ever hear of it?"
Taylor shrugged in non recognition.
“Then we just went on a lot of Search and Destroy missions. Some sniper
stuff, land mines. Some bad ambushes that hit the line companies that we only
got rumors about. I caught lots of
patrols but I was still back in the tents too." said Poplar
You were a rifleman? asked Taylor.
"Started out as a rifleman then ended up in Eighty One Mortars. What
about you?"
Tayjor took a deep breath like he was preparing to pick up
something. "Well when I was in they
were offering a two year hitch thing.
Then after all the training,
uhh the war was going full pitch you understand, I ended up first in
Flames then with the M-60." Taylor looked into Poplar's face for some
recognition of what he was saying.
"Yea. I was in weapons
platoon for a year or so. Rockets,
Flames, M60s. We had some M-60s.
Only once heard it fired in combat though." Poplar laughed to himself as he thought
of that rips from the 3.5s up at Qui Nhon. "I did fire it several times on the
range up on Okinawa. My only time with the M-60 was back in Pendleton." said
Poplar. Suddenly the name Golden
Meadows popped into his head.
"Huhhh! I sure did." said
Taylor. Poplar now looked closely into his face. He had narrow nearly oriental eyes and
as he spoke they would flare as if amazed or surprised. About the same age as
Poplar a bit younger, he was articulate with possibly a hint of a New England
accent. Poplar thought him to be honest.
His eye contact was frequent. And there was perhaps something about
their mutual random anonymity that allowed honesty to flourish for the moment,
he thought.
"Have you done much reading about the war? Movies?" asked Poplar.
"Yea. I saw Apocalypse Now.
I'll tell you, I don't go much for getting back into
that."
"I know what you mean. My
wife and I went to see this, what was it.."Deer Hunter". I had to
leave. The build up into the story
to when they actually went in-country, the thumping of those choppers and the
color green. Green, green, green. It actually made me physically sick.. Then the clicking of that pistol up
against that Marines head. We
were sitting in this dark movie house. It was packed. There were some noisy teen girls between
us and the aisle. Finally in the
thumping of the choppers and the Vietnamese voices, the VC! It was their voices that finally got
me. Contact!. You know. The voices; that did it. I had not heard
that voice, that sound in years. I
had to get out of there. The girls
would not move for me to leave. My
wife just sat there, not sure of what was going on. Then I just kicked my way through the
fucking bunch of," Poplar lowered his voice to say this, " teeny boppers and walked out into the
lobby in a cold dizzy sweat.
Another guy left too. With his
wife. I saw him leave. I guess it was his wife. Went through the door and out to the
street. I remember it was cold
out. Then my wife comes
out. We drove to another movie, an
empty dollar movie and sit there watching Dance Fever until I simmered
down. I explained my feelings
to my wife, but I don't think she understood."
They retreated from the subject for a long period of silence. Just the whir of the jet engines and the
continuous desperate rattle of the two men behind them paging through the
green-bar reports. Then Poplar held
his book up too the cabin spot light. The liquor was working its
magic.
"Listen to this. Here's what some guy wrote on this book jacket. "I had begun to abandon hope that a
spokesman would emerge to tell the true story of the fighting man in the
enigmatic Vietnam War." Poplar and Taylor stared at each other
and laughed. Taylor sipped his
drink.
Then Poplar ventured a deeper exploration.
"I'm a salesman. What's your line of work?"
"Imports. I buy and sell
African art objects." Taylor
reached under his seat and brought out a leather folio. He opened it and revealed expensively
mounted color photographs of what seemed to be statues. He handed the folio across the
aisle. Poplar hesitated at first
then took the folio.
"May I?" Poplar asked beginning to turn the pages.
"Of course. These are recent acquisitions. They are from around the
southeast coast of Africa and the island of Madagascar. That one is a Malagasy Grave
Marker."
"That's interesting. I’d Like to put one of those in my
office."
" It would cost you about thirty thousand. " Taylor smiled. “How about
you. What do you do?”
“Sales. Corporate sales, for about a little over ten years. Mainly instruments. Devices. Stuff like
that. We just had a sales meeting
in Anaheim.” Poplar thought of some
disturbing signs he’d seen at the meeting.
Unsettling clues that Corporate America was coming unglued. As quickly,
he shut off the thoughts.
The reading spot over Taylor
highlighted a newspaper headline on an LA Times resting in his lap. A racial
beating incident involving the police had just splattered across the
headlines. Poplar saw a unique
opportunity for speaking candidly with a fellow former Marine, a fraternal
exchange perhaps.
"You seem to have done okay for yourself since those nitty gritty days in
the Crotch." They both laughed at an old familiar reference to the Corps. Poplar handed the folio back to
Taylor.
"Do you ever find irony in the fact that you did your service and still
see that stuff happening around." Poplar gestured toward the newspaper
headline.
"You mean the police beating stuff.?"
"Yea."
"Well its funny you ask about that.
Do you remember a year or so ago.
There was another news story like this one. Only it was an off duty cop trying to
lure belligerent police into beating him up on camera. Same kind of thing."
"Do you see any kind of connection between the possible cause of this
excessive violence against suspects and atrocities committed by U.S. Forces
against Vietnamese civilians?" asked Poplar.
Taylor weighted the question for a moment. "In terms of the frustration
and fear, yea. I can understand
it. I think for the most part it is
a mixture fear and racism."
Poplar assumed a surprised expression and gestured with his
hands.
Taylor held up his hand mid aisle stopping him short of his wordless
point. "That was racism too, I know.
But there was more of , like, if anybody gets it first, it'll be these
mufuckers and not me. I'm gittin' my ass back to the world whatever. Yea. I can understand that.” his eyes staring
at Poplar. “But it doesn't
completely jive here. I mean, a
Black man unlike a White man.." Tayor interrupted with a funny laugh perhaps at
the ridiculousness of explaining this to a White man. "..has to think ahead of
his movements. He has to think way
ahead, way ahead in a supposedly free society! He's got to raise his children to
think way ahead!"
Poplar tensed at the unexpected emotion that suddenly appeared in
Taylor's voice.
"Excuse me for a moment." Taylor stood. "Got to make a head call."
They laughed at the Navy term for rest room that either probably had not
used seriously for two decades.
Poplar sipped the rest of his drink. The mask of jet noise seemed to
soothe his mind. Maybe it was the
drink. He felt strangely on the
ledge of some new reality. The book
he had just finished reading had jogged something in his memory long
buried. Long suppressed. It was as if, after a wild donnybrook or
chaotic event, scattered fraternity
brothers had converged again, each explaining in detail the horror or hilarity
of a near miss; or of the tragic
misfortune of some other luckless soul no longer among them.
Taylor returned with fresh drinks and handed Poplar a refill. Poplar
glanced at his watch. It was Three Thirty AM and Poplar eyeballed the syrupy
colored liquor with a hopeless, what-the-hell stare.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the captain. We have received a second
weather update from ATC Philadelphia. There is still a zero ceiling at
Philadelphia and we are adding about another forty minutes. Its likely we'll get clearance just
after sunrise. Sorry for the delay.
I'll let you folks know shortly.
Hot coffee and refreshments are available from our attendants. Thank
you."
"You know, I have never talked much about the war with anyone." said
Poplar. He considered carefully his
wondering train of thought until an unexpected proposition found its way to his
lips. " I am interested in knowing
what happened to you. I
mean, we went through the same basic training. Right? We're former snuffys."
Poplar used yet another term known only to lowly grunts. He saw Taylor stare
into his drink listening. "How in the hell was it that you went into the Corps
in the middle of the war? I joined
during peace time. Vietnam wasn't even common knowledge when I joined. Did you ever speak with anyone
about your tour in Vietnam?"
The dim first class cabin was a supersonic cocoon hurling through the
wild nebulous night. The aircraft's
thin protective skin miraculously shielding executive passengers with highly
polished wing-tip shoes and expensive suit slacks carelessly from the murderous elements just inches
away in the passing night. Only hints of the violence of routine fight came and
went with sharp lurches as the aircraft tore through weather fronts. A crumpled dress accidentally
revealed the shapely legs of a sleeping female. The two young executives in the seat
behind continued their desperate night vigil upon some reality that would meet
them at dawn.
"Well not exactly. I have
talked with Thelma, my sister, from time to time. She's helped me a lot. I know a few veterans who I see now and
then. We talk a little. But not
like...what you just ask me if that's what you mean."
"Where did you grow up.? In The City?"
"Naw. Near Baltimore. I went
to high school there. My father
died when I was little. My mother
and father separated when I was young.
I grew up on a one parent
household. There was nothing I
could do. It was one of those
things you just come to accept. So I spent most of my time when I was not doing
my school work or at church or traveling with my grandfather. Grandpa was a
preacher and would travel to different churches on Sundays and weekends. I either sang in their choirs or sat in
on meetings with the church elders.
Just sitting there among them a little guy with a starched white shirt
and tie." he said laughing.
"After high school, I started to work around town. Mother played the piano, and I would
spend a lot of time just listening and reading. I read a lot. I had learned accounting by helping my
grandfather. Later that and some other business skills saved my life. Anyway, one afternoon my mother walked in
from the street with the mail. It
was a notice from the draft board.
I was being drafted in to the Army.
That was late in Sixty Seven."
"The war was well underway then." said Poplar.
"Yea . But I didn't know much about what was going on. I had seen the
soldier's from the Army around town. They walked around with uniform jackets
open. Hats cocked all over the place."
"Ditty boppers." quipped Poplar.
"Yea! Yea! " Taylor smiled. Another old term from the
Corps.
"Well, when I saw the Marine Corps recruiter, in Dress Blues, I knew that
if I went into the service it would be the Marine Corps. So I went into the
Marine Corps for a two year hitch."
"What was Parris Island like then?
Khe Sanh and Hue were hot then!
Were they saying anything about Vietnam in your basic
training?"
"It was probably the usual stuff. Maggot. Trash cans kicked around." he laughed.
"The intensity, sure. But there was one very consistent message. It was 'You pay attention and do
exactly what you are told to do because it could save your ass.' We took all of our exercise and training
seriously. Field stripping the
rifle for example. That was done
over and over with a blindfold, eyes shut and every other way. I was good at that. Also I was a Right
End in high school football. I
could run circles around some of those guys. When we graduated boot camp and everyone
came to congratulate us, my mother, and grandfather, it was a nice day. I was
very proud."
"Then you went on to ITR?" asked Poplar referring to the more realistic
infantry phase of Marine training at Camp Geiger a microcosm of Camp
LeJeune.
"Yea. There was that, then I
went on home to Baltimore. Well
when I got home, we were all sitting around talking the day before I was to
leave. I said something that used the words, ' When I come back’ and I noticed that Grandpa was really down. He said, 'you mean if you come
back Taylor.” I looked at him
and said "NO! WHEN I come
back!" Then it was time to go and I
remember I was about to eat a Tasty
Cake and a Hires Root Beer. I hadn't opened the drink and on the way
out the door I told my mother to put the Root Beer and cake in the refrigerator
and not to let ANYBODY, touch it until I got back. Then I left.
The day I got into Vietnam, late July of Sixty Eight the plane landed in
Quang Tri. Up near the DMZ. We
filed off the plane. A Flying Tiger charter." Now Taylor looked up from his drink and
glanced at Poplar. Clearing
his throat he continued. "We filed
off the plane and incoming started screaming in! You know, mortars."
"Damn!" muttered Poplar.
"There was a guy sitting next to me on the way out. Like you and me here. We had talked off an on during this long
ass trip. Well, he was killed in that barrage! Within his first hour in Vietnam, he was
a dead man! Taylor now
sat forward in his seat. His manor
became tense and his eyes wide open.
Now. for the first time in thirty one years he had spoken about his
Vietnam.
"Nothing ever makes sense at the time. No pattern. Did you every wonder
if Charlie was welcoming you to NAM?
That it was not just a random coincidence. Like, 'lets shake up the
new arrivals. “
Taylor boomed a nervous laugh.
"Yea..UuuuuHhhhhh. We hadn't
even drawn weapons or 782 gear.
There were other casualties too but this one guy...” he shook; his
head. "Then we joined our units up
in Dong Ha and got more in-coming that night! I got to thinking right then that,
you know, UhhhOhhh I done fucked up baaaad! I got to get out’a here.' Then I saw this guy smoking a
joint. He offered some to me and
the first night I said 'No." And
the next night we took more mortars.
Again he asked me if I wanted to smoke and I took a drag. Before then I hadn't smoked or drank
except for maybe a beer. Well I choked and coughed and he told me how to
inhale. I remember it
settling me down. I could think more clearly and I promised myself then that I
would survive this. Whatever it
took, I would get back."
"Had you drawn weapons by then?"
"Yea. I had drawn my M-16 and joined my fire team by then. We went out on several patrols, there
was some stuff, I..I can't really
remember but I think it was without incident. Maybe a land mine. I don't recall." Poplar saw little beads
of sweat glistening in the beam from the reading light. Taylor’s head was nearly bald. "Then I was put on an M-60
squad. The M-60 machine gun.”
Taylor looked at Poplar for some confirmation that he knew the meaning of M-60.
We went out to hill 950,
overlooking Khe Sanh. You know Khe Sanh right?" Taylor referred to the scene of the Dien
Bien Phu like siege of the Marines in 1968.
"Now, let me think." Poplar's brain began to search for data. Searching. The dates. "Khe Sahn was over by the
time you got there, am I right?"
"Yea. for around seven or eight months." I think. The Army 101st had relieved the Marines. There
were still NVA regulars and popular forces scattered around. We had three guys out there on a
listening post. Two white guys and
a brother. Well I had the M-60 set
up a thousand yards back and I hear these men on the phone. They say. "There's
somebody out front!" They heard
movement and they went out. Got out
of their fucking holes and went out to call in some shit. Then, I don't hear anything else."
Taylor stared at Poplar across the aisle. “We heard nothing. Silence!. We wait a
while till nearly dawn and the lieutenant and several of us go out there. We get there at the holes
and these two white guys are dead.
The Black guy is pissing and shitting himself. He's shaking and keeps repeating that
the VCs have killed his two buddies.
Kept using their names, like they were still sittin' there
listening. He said the VCs
said '..Right on soul brother.' "
Taylor tore the scene from his mind in a twist of his head and took a long gulp
of his drink.
"How long were you out at any given time?" asked Poplar.
Taylor laughed. " Sixty
days, thirty days. No change of
cloths. Just what’s on your back.. You couldn't. You could walk along in the rain, soap
down, and let the rain wash off the soap.
You slept wet." his face
took on a macabre expression. "You
didn't talk." then he leaned forward and continued his sentence. "You just
whispered like this." He paused and assumed a normal voice again.
"I was on hill 950 three times.
Once when I got there. One
in the middle. And once when I had
fourteen days to go. They had a
party for me then. A short
timer. During the second time, I
had a position set up, one of the three M-60s in the platoon." Taylor said pausing to search for
something then he pulls a barf bag
out of the seat pouch.
Then he claws it making it rustle.
“We heard the VC coming in through the elephant grass. I didn't want to fire the M-60 at night
because they could see the tracers and locate me. If I had to fire, I would always move in
unpredictable ways to the right or left.
Fire and move, a long ways one time and a short ways another time. You got that M-60, you're a marked man,
you understand?"
"Well we hear the NVAs coming through the grass and someone learns that
there is a damn regiment size force out there! They call in puff the magic dragon." At
saying this Taylor noticed a puzzled look on Poplar's face. "This was a C-130
mounted with twelve M-60s or Quad
Fifties, I'm not sure. When it fired it was this big SWOOOOSH!!!!, I can't
describe the sound. It would rain
down on an area the size of a football field. It would start in back of the NVAs and
cut off their escape, then walk in toward our position. So here comes Puff
The Magic Dragon flying in out of the night and WHAM!!!"
"How did this effect moral at that precise moment?" asked
Poplar.
"It was real high!" Taylor roared with laughter. "Kick ass man! KICK
SOME!!!"
Poplar noticed one of the business men glanced up from his green bars
then returned to his work.
"All the while we're throwing out everything we've got. 80 Mike Mikes, 60s, I ran out of M-60
belts! I had scrounged an M-16 back at Quang Tri and had it broke down with 200
rounds of ammunition in my ruck. I
broke it out in the dark, put it together and continued on till morning. We threw every t-h-i-n-g at
them!"
"Christ! What did the ground
look like in the morning?"
"Did you ever go into a meat market and see sides of beef hanging
up? There were arms, legs torsos
hanging all around in the tall grass.
You imagine something, it was there. Heads with little holes in the front and
the whole back blown away. These
NVAs, we called em Rock Marines were tall men, like you, what, six feet, Chinese
or Mongol I guess, not the short Vietnamese I was used to seeing. They had their
wrists and nuts wrapped up. I don't
know why. They had belts with pouches of drugs and high grade heroine. I mean
the very highest grade Heroine there is.
S-2 had it analyzed. As far
as I know they did not plan to return, suicide attackers, but I can't be sure.
Every man worries about his balls in combat." he said giddily.
Now his recollections became more chaotic and out of chronology, Taylor's
memories began to jump out, ever buried now lubricated by the liquor now
leaching up and passing from his lips.
"You know when I got out, I had come back to Baltimore and my cousin had
gotten me a date with her girlfriend. Well I noticed that her last name was the
same as a Marine I knew to be dead only for a short time. I figured it was just a
coincidence and didn't say anything.
I went to pick her up and was invited in and saw his picture on the
mantle. It was the same man! He had
been killed only a month or so before!"
"Have you been to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial? Do you recall what plate numbers the
names of KIAs from your tour were." asked Poplar.
"Yes that's a big thing man.” He said softly, emotionally. No I don't recall." He paused and looked away up into an air
vent in the ceiling as if to suppress an impulse to weep. "That gets into some heavy
thoughts. There was a Marine who
took R&R and flew home to the states and married his childhood sweetheart.
Then afterward he came back to NAM.
His leave over, he was going to finish his tour. Well he got back and got into some
argument with one of the NCOs and the NCO put him out on point. Well he got it in the head on
that patrol."
Vance noticed Taylor was slipping deeper into some private morose and
offered quickly, "I have checked and found that three Marines from my boot camp
platoon in Sixty-Three, Platoon 310, were later killed in Vietnam. Did you ever inquire about your platoon
at PI?"
"Ten." He did not guess at this number, Poplar thought. He new the number exactly.
"There was one guy who went on to officer's candidate school in Quantico
after we left ITR.(Infantry Training Regiment) One day when we were out on hill
950 some choppers came in and he got off the chopper. He was an officer!” Both
men possessed the uncommon knowledge that Marine Officers have always been God
Like. In the Marine Corps, Officers are supreme authority fitures not to be
questioned, to be respected and their orders are to be followed explicitly.
Taylor continued “ We said, 'Hey,
looks like you finally made it man.' He looked around and recognized us. Said.
'Hey! What’s it like here?' We just
laughed and said, 'This is some baaaad shit man.’" NCOs were annoyed that we spoke to him
that way, that he was an officer, I mean, but he was with us first."
One time we were up North next to the DMZ. There was Dong Ha, Quang Tri
and Phu Bai up near near Hue, you know?
Quang Tri eventually got over run.
We were flown into this place in the Ashau Valley. I have read some history about
this. You see, with the Johnson and
Nixon secret bombing of the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Cambodia and Laos the uhh Hi Van pass and other supply channels to
the Viet Cong and NLF forces were blocked.
All the supplies were diverted to alternate routes. One door way was the Ashau Valley, West
of Hue. Come in through a place, I
think it was Hi Vee pass. Hi Van that’s what it was. The 101st Airborne had taken a pounding
out there. A hell of a
pounding. When we flew into this
place it was during the middle of the day.
It was hot and the choppers were trying to land and there," Taylor paused
blinked his eyes and pinched his nose as if it itched, "...there was nothing but
body parts all over the LZ. American human body parts, you
understand." At this revelation
Taylor coughed a little cough. "The choppers were trying to land without
touching the parts. Moving this way
and that. Finally they just
landed. I would have felt different
if it were, say, animals!" Taylor searched Poplar's eyes. "But this was our men's arms, legs
and heads man! Americans! "
Taylor stood and walked to the bar in the rear of First Class. He returned with a fresh drink. Far below a sleeping nation slipped
passed. Little specks of light, farms, little towns, slowly drifting by in the blackness. Then
he turned and took his seat again. The windows still black as
soot.
"Name some operations. I remember operation names during my tour like
"Starlight and. Black Ferret, do you remember any names of operations?” asked Poplar surprised that he could mechanically
recall code names.
“Dagger Thrust?”
"No...I, Wait...lets see. No
it’s been too long. So much of that stuff is buried."
"Lets see,” Poplar continued to recite, testing his own memory. "How
about 'Golden Fleece'?
"No."
"Harvest Moon?"
"No." Taylor shook his head
probing his memory.
"Lam Son?" There was a flash
of something.
"Dewey Canyon?"
"THAT'S IT!" THAT'S IT! The name exploded a whole hellish file,
which suddenly seemed to displays
on Taylor's mind screen, gripping him in a new way.
Poplar for the first time began to feel uncomfortable. “Look Taylor, we don’t have to go on
with this. I just thought if..”
Taylor put his hand up in the aisle, “Hey no man, its okay. Its just been so long since I dug into
this.” He slowly put the glass to
his lips and sipped the Dewers with great care, pleasurably.
Pensively.
"A while after I got there, I took on the M-60 machine gun. And we went on this Dewey Canyon. That must have been around January. January, Sixty Nine. Well we were on this ridgeline looking
over to the next hill and I saw the NVAs running along! I whipped up the M-60 and just locked
the trigger. "Brrrrrrrrrrrt. When
you shoot a moving target you traverse your fire from the opposite
direction. I just kept firing. Then Sergeant Drummond, we called him
"Drummer" bonged me on the helmet and said, "OoooohKay Taylor, that’s
enough...you'll burn up the' gatdamn' barrel!" In a nervous relief, Poplar and
Taylor both boomed with unexpected laughter. The green bar boys behind them keep
calculating. The passengers slept
on.
"Taylor, in January Sixty Nine the Third Marines launched an attack
against the North Vietnamese units along the Laos Vietnam boarder. As I recall some colonel went into Laos
in hot pursuit. The reason I
mention this is that at the time our own expansion into Laos was non-existent
and had the public learned of such an excursion it would have been a hot potato.
Now, most accounts about the secret war in Laos began to appear around
1971. So you were in Laos
earlier?"
Tayor laughed. "Yea we went in and out of Laos lots. I was with that Colonel. We went to Cambodia too. I carried a
map. The lieutenant was supposed to be the only one who carried maps. But by
that time I was a team leader and I had a map. I carried lots of things I wasn't
supposed to carry." he laughed
again and shook his head. "Hell at
one time I carried an M-16 with extra rounds of ammunition. I told you about
that. Plus my regular issue a .45
caliber side arm. We were on foot
out there at 611. I knew we were
heading West, waaaaay too far. I
kept checking and saying "..
shit..we're in Laos."" Later they told us not say a thing about Laos in our
letters home. The thing I remember
about that was how fast we moved.
We were stepping out man. .So that when the NVAs spotted us and called in
artillery, we would be already long gone.
We entered and left Laos in the jungle and off the roads"
"You know," he continued, “there was a time about half way into my tour,
when I wrote home and asked my Mom to send me a picture of that Root Beer and
Tasty Cake in the refrigerator. She
did. I got this picture. In the mail and showed it all around.
These guys were talking. This and that..
What they would do with their girlfriends when they got back. So here I am showing this picture of
that Hires Root Beer. They thought
I was crazy! I mean really. They thought I had lost it big
time. I carried the picture until
it rotted in my cami pocket.
Another time we went into North Vietnam.
"Oh!. Beyond the DMZ? "Beyond the DMZ. A few cliques north into the
mountains. Well, they told us again
that under no circumstance were we to mention the locations in our letters
home. We went into a place and
found a complex of caves. The caves
were deep. So deep a bomb couldn't
touch them. There was a hospital
there where they were operating on this VC soldier and just left him on the
table when they bugged out.
You know, what I remember is, the walls in there were smooth and
straight. Just like this bulkhead” he ran his fingers over the surface of the
aircraft interior. “Not shabby and all.
I said 'damn man'“ The two laughed at the slow discovery of the evidence.
Evidence of a potent, highly developed and indoctrinated enemy.
"You think all that fire power kept you alive.?"
He shook his head in a sobering stare. In his mind he was still there at that
moment. He seemed to see bursts of
untold horror only to quench it, then
"We were never far from fire fights, land mines or infiltration. You could hear firefights somewhere in
the night. Dead Marines were a
common thing. I mean we would run
across Marines, KIAs who the NVAs had cut off their ears and stuffed into there
mouths. There was this one outfit in the 9th Marines we called the "Walking
Dead".
"Toward the end of this second time out at hill 950, there was this
patrol that ran across some VC.
There was a woman among them and she seemed to be the leader. I found out about all this after it
happened you understand." Poplar
noticed that Taylor was suddenly being very careful perhaps even reluctant to
continue. " Anyway my squad was called back up the hill and we left some people
from S-2 there, you know Intelligence.
There were several ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) officers with
them. They questioned the VC
women. We set out security while
all this was going on. And then I
hear this 'pop' sound down the hill.
I remember I jumped around.
Soon after that we got attacked big time. Big time. I learned later that the ARVNs had put a
frag grenade up her...you know."
Taylor coaxed some indication from Poplar that he understood what he was
saying.. "They, uh, had here spread eagle on a tree and just set off the frag. "
Taylor stared incredulous at Poplar. He took a deep breath.
“I guess it was the second time at 950 that we were attacked. They were
running and crawling at us. I ...I
can't remember I was down in the dirt and then jumped up, fired a burst and
didn't hit one of ‘em . Then I felt
my helmet jump and when I looked at it, a round had gone through the front top
and out the back. I said and,
please excuse me, "FUCK THIS MUTHFUKA” and jumped up and cut him in half. He did not go down and I kept firing
then I must have hit him in the head because he went over." Then Taylor mimed the expression of the
soldier falling as he slumped back in his cushioned first class set. "No. Maybe that was firebase Cunningham,
anyway I was hit in the leg. I
didn't notice it until morning. You see what this meant was, I would loose my
M-60. Well I had to go back to the
rear, back to Quang Tri. Then I
went aboard the hospital ship for a while.
After that I rotated back to the States.
"What about your transition from that?" asked Poplar
"When I left hill 950, I had bought a camera and I wanted to take a
picture of the guys as I pulled away.
I put this camera on my pack and when the chopper came, I forgot about
the camera and it fell off my pack.
By the time I discovered it was gone the chopper was on the way. I asked if I could go back and get
it. Ha!” Taylor laughed. “ But the
pilot wouldn't hear it. They thought I was crazy.”
“Then I went through Malaysia and bought a bunch of suits. I wanted to get so far from that
filth. I never wanted to see it
again. Filth. Killing. Scuzz. And death. Fear. Well by the time I got home to
Baltimore, my Mom's place, I hung
those suits up and went to the refrigerator for that root beer and cake. I went out on the front porch and took a
nice long drink. I tell you man, it
was damn sweet."
"Did you have any adjustment problems? PTSD we know about now but no one really
understood that then." Poplar
sipped his Grand Mariner.
"After I was home for a while, someone broke into our house and stole all
of my suits plus some other things.
I had been looking for a job.
My old employer wouldn't hire me back. And then this break-in. I checked around and found out who it
was. I told my mother that I was
going to kill him. I went to find
him and I did find him and I told him.
"Look, I know why you stole my things. Drugs in your brain man! Drugs talkin' you know. “It scared me because I knew I
could have killed him so easily. I
went there to kill him." Taylor
spoke into his glass. "It was that
whole thing still in my mind. Then
I made a decision. I went back to
my studies, general business and cultural anthropology. A double major. Worked
my ass off. I never ever deviated
from that course for six years.
Actually never deviated from it to this day. I have a Masters Degree in Cultural
Anthropology. I teach part
time. In addition to my business. I
made a choice.”
“In the beginning, the VA had given me a big negative run-a-round. They
doubted that I could cut school and wouldn't okay my GI bill benefits." Taylor laughed a boisterous laugh. "I kept at'em till they wrote the thing
out. Ha. I worried the piss out of
them. This guy kept seeing me
appear and reappear. Ha!
Sometime afterward, I
made the first of many field trips.
To Kenya. It changed my
life. A whole new thing. It was all connected to that decision I
made, that I had left my M60 out there, back there, and now I shut it all off in
my mind. Just shut it out. The only thing that hangs on this
shoulder is an old classical guitar and my wife on occasion." Taylor
laughed. It was the best decision
of my life." No more killing
man."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've just heard from ATC Philadelphia. We have clearance and will be on the
ground in about fifteen or twenty minutes."
The lights of the cabin came on and the rosy sheaths of sunlight sliced
into the cabin illuminating sleepy faces.
The aroma of fresh coffee floated in the air. Passengers yawned and stretched. Behind them Poplar glanced to see the
exhausted executives folding the reams of computer paper. One man stood, looked around,
discovering the dawn and headed for the rest room. "Tell New York we'll need Five Mil'. It'll give us six months operating
capital and time to get back those contracts. Tell’em to cut twenty percent in
the middle staff. If we're
lucky Nippon and Pakistan will stay out for another year."
"Coffee?" asked the stewardess with a last gesture of service before
landing.
The other businessman seemed to stare numbly out the window as puffs of
pink broken clouds drifted past the
window.
Poplar looked at Taylor.
"People don't know. They
would never understand. I mean what
it took to survive. I've read some.
More than I've let on. About the
war. It was complex. One Marine's or soldier’s experience
might be almost unrecognizable to another.
There is some sense to it somewhere. Anyway, even if it can never..."
"Hey. Its cool. Don't worry
about it. It's the first time I've ever talked like that about any of that
stuff." said Taylor toying nervously with a cigarette then putting away. You ever hear the song "Drive On" by
Johnny Cash? This
dude's telling about all the hell to some cat that picked him up,
hitch-hiking. After
each painful verse spoken to the driver, he ends it by just saying “drive
on.” You know. Like itt don't
matter any more. Just drive
on. When I think of all the
waste, the wrecked lives my dead buddies; it doesn't make me feel very good.
But, Vance, it does matter. It matters a lot man." The landing gear slammed onto the
Philadelphia runway.
"Guess you just dug up all that hell into this Red Eye from LA. That’s what you did. You just unloaded
the hell. Welcome home."
Poplar slipped his trench coat on and extended his hand across the
aisle. He and Taylor shook hands
soulfully and Poplar swallowed a lump of coal in his throat and thought he saw a
well of tears in Taylor's eyes. As
the frumpy bleary eyed passengers filed out into the empty sunlit lounge,
lugging their ever present briefcases, Taylor spun around to face Poplar
walking backward in the jet way causing a momentary disruption to the orderly
egress from the airship.
"You know, you better watch yourself." he said with a warm smile. "Vietnam might just get you
yet." "Excuse me. Excuse me!" A boisterous business type
complained. "Fuck you!" said Poplar. Both men howled uproariously to
noticeable irritation of the rest of the executive set hurrying to their quotas,
knots in their stomachs, their masks already well in place at this early
hour. Poplar, very much among them
but a pretender really, retreated back into anonymity. Sweet, safe
anonymity. Mike Malsbary July
2002 USMC 1963-1967 Enlisted
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