Voice of Experience

Voice of Experience

On the flight from Okinawa to Danang, South Vietnam (as it was called in 1970) the KWB sat next to a ‘salty old Marine Sergeant’ who was about 22 going on 40 years old. I had met him during the week at Camp Smedley D. Butler, actually a number of bases collectively known after the legendary Marine who once said his unit was "prepared to land and shoot everybody and everything that was breaking the peace".

US Marine Corps Bases on Okinawa

Camp Smedley D. Butler actually consists of several camps.

We were going through processing at Camp Hansen when I learned that this Marine was coming back to the ‘Nam after two tours. I began to ask him questions about what to do and how to do it since he had been there twice and lived. He saw that I really wanted the straight scoop and slowly he began to tell me some things to watch out for in-country. Personal stuff also came out. He had been discharged from the Corps, never talked about anything to anyone, finally his wife divorced him. He had nothing else to do, so he re-enlisted and volunteer for a third tour.

The Sergeant was a man of few words, but I listened intently because when he spoke, I could see many memories flash through his mind. “Don’t trust any of them”; “Put one through the head, just to be sure…”-said with no anger or malice, just simple facts to remember from a voice of experience. He was going back for a third tour and some might think him crazy but I was praying that I would have someone like him watching over my ignorant butt.

This was no ‘by the book’ crap, he gave me short clipped words of advice that had the ‘thousand yard stare’ built-in. “Get a fuckin’ Colt .45 ‘auto’…steal one if you have to” seemed like solid gold to me.

Death Spiral into Danang Vital Area.


The Boeing flight was only an hour’s flight time, late at night for safety, and drinks were flowing. The Stewardesses (okay to call them that back then) were very, very kind to all. Over 150 men and a few nurses were about to descend in a gut wrenching steep spiral towards Danang Airbase, northern I Corps.

I was sitting way in the back when the doors opened and the humid hot blast of air swept into the fuselage like a sauna. When the heat hit us the thought struck me, “What?! It’s 1 AM!! How can it be so Hot?” Slowly the line moved forward, each man or woman with their own thoughts. A nervous calm settled on me, for I was facing a great unknown, entering the war zone of I Corps, the northern most of four military divisions of South Vietnam. I thought I was prepared to meet my adventure and naively was not afraid. I was on a mission, to help the Vietnamese people stay free!

I noticed that all the stewardesses were wishing everyone good luck but one ‘stew’ really stood out. She was rather short but very cute, Blond ‘cheerleader type’ All-American Girl, (and forgive me, well endowed). She was hugging each man really close, tight, and long… bringing a smile to most. She gave some a good ole friendly kiss on the cheek, said a quick “Good luck” or “See you on the way back”. She really meant it too!

My turn was up next, but before she could hug me, I jokingly asked with a silly grin, “Is it really THAT bad?” She looked at my innocent and ignorant young face then grabbed me in a tight bear hug and burst into tears, her chest shuddering and heaving in uncontrollable sobs. She continued to hold me in a strong grip, as complaints were voiced as men had to move around us.

“What did you do?” “Hell, what did you say to her?” “Hogging it all for himself”. At first I could not understand her, then 'My God, she was acting like I was her own brother!'

Then it hit me, like a bolt of lightning, a sudden understanding. Some terrible ‘knowing’ filled her soul, rent her spirit apart. I felt her terror, her fear and dread...FOR ME.

My knees buckled and a queasy feeling hit my stomach. I thought to myself, what have I DONE? I volunteered for this? She looked up at me, tears flowing down her face, still clinging to me. Finally, she composed herself and held my face with both her hands. It seemed that she was memorizing me, then wiping her own face she bravely smiled and told me very, very seriously, “You Come BACK, okay!”. I mumbled something and stumbled on, my mind confused and reeling.

At the bottom of the ramp the Sergeant caught up with me and spun me around towards the right. Men were unloading our seabags from the plane onto trams. The Sergeant simply pointed beyond towards a second tram coming to a stop. Aluminum coffins were stacked four to a car, waiting for the long journey back to Conus (Continental U.S.). Along with returning troops heading back from the war, these coffins would be on her return flight. Now I understood, and my foreboding increased. The Sergeant smiled, “Welcome to Viiieet…Nam, Marine.”

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