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8/14/2019 The Flight to the Fight & the Fight CH. 18 & 19
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Chapter Eighteen
The Flight to the Fight
Bong Son, South Vietnam, October 1967
The choppers lifted off from the An Khe base camp to the area of operation, in a small
formation, led by the gunship. Within a few miles of the yet uncontested LZ, the birds made a
dramatic drop in elevation. At that point in the flight, nervous boredom tuned to excitement
when the pilots maneuvered their ships into the dangerous, but exhilarating, combat mode of
chopper flight known as contourflying.
Skirting the treetops, the birds hugged the terrain and flew fast and low in approach to the
landing zone, creating a rush for all adrenaline junkies onboard. Upon the final approach, the
excitement turned to terror when it became evident that the enemy expected company, prompted
no doubt by the probe of the old mans chopper fly over the day before.
HOT LZ. LOCK AND LOAD!
The adrenaline-juiced troopers locked and loaded their weapons. Only the dead were
unaware of the hot situation on the ground. Almost immediately things became intense, at a fever
pitch. The situation turned from nervous boredom, to excitement, to sheer terror in the short
flight to the fight.
The LZ was hot, verified by the enemy rounds that pelted the bird-skins. The airwaves
came alive with communications. Gunfire, punctuated with tracer rounds, came in heavy bursts
at the ships. With the air-assaulting troopers psyched up for the ensuing insertion into the hot LZ,
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the pilots busily coordinated the attack on the LZ.
Incoming at six o'clock. Say again, incoming at six o'clock. Rifleman 1. Over.
The other troop ship pilots acknowledged the warning.
Red Dog 3. Roger that.
Pretty Boy 2. Roger that.
Blue Max 6 (gunship), copy that. Hold tight. Say again, hold tight. Will light em up. Ill
make another pass over the LZ and then you all should be able to unload personnel. Blue Max 6.
Over.
The three slicks acknowledged the warning, and held tight until Blue Max lit up the LZ
with a heavy bombardment of rocket fire. After receiving clearance from Blue Max, Rifleman 1
swooped in to unload, with the troopers riding the skids of the chopper onto the hot LZ and
quickly dismounting. Aiding in the insertion, more gunship fire suppressed enemy fire, enabling
the daredevil troops to complete the insertion.
First Squad, in position, aided with more suppressing fire to help enable the other two
choppers to unload. Pretty Boy 2 (Second Squad chopper) radioed for assistance.
Blue Max 6, Pretty Boy 2, going in. Need assistance. It looks hot at nine o'clock. Over.
Will take care of ASAP. Pretty Boy, Blue Max 6.
Roger that. Pretty Boy 2. Over.
Following the assist, Pretty Boy dropped off Second Squad. Blue Max again circled the
LZ and surveyed for enemy fire. Seeing none, Blue Max advised Red Dog 3 to unload.
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Red Dog 3, this is Blue Max 6. Over.
Red Dog 3, Over.
Red Dog 3, youre good to go. Over.
Roger, Blue Max. Going in.
With the aid of the pilots, door gunners and the gunship, the paratroopers were finally on
the ground.
Chinese Bandit, this is Blue Max 6. Over.
Chinese Bandit. Over.
Blue Max offered words of assurance to the freshly inserted recondos. Will be sticking
around a while; will wait for your sit rep (situation report), Blue Max 6. Over.
Roger that, and appreciate it. Chinese Bandit. Out.
The troop carriers (slicks) headed back to the base camp. Blue Max continued circling the
LZ while he waited for the sit rep from the platoon sergeant. In a moment of rare praise, Donner
expressed his awe of the pilots and crews to his radio operator.
Those pilots, and that Blue Max pilot especially, got to have balls the size of an
elephants.
You got that right, Sarge. They took a lot of rounds getting us in, thats for sure.
Those pilots and crews were an absolutely amazing bunch. Their daring and skill were at
an unbelievable level of professionalism. Their swagger, too, is well deserved.
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The temperature already exceeded the 100 degrees mark by the time the troopers set
down. It only took a few minutes for the comfort level, or better said, the misery level, to
register. In the excitement of the air assault the high temperature and humidity didnt yet register
in the minds of the troopers. The only temperature they were aware of was that of the LZ, and
that was HOT!
Son of a bitch! Goddamn bugs. I hate em, complained Johnny, as the troopers made
their way through the brush, vines and elephant grass to their defensive positions.
I mean, come on, look at my arms. Im bleeding like a, well, I mean, look!
What? Your arms? Look at mine, look at Docs. Hell, were all bleeding.
Fuckin thorns grow on every Goddamned thing here. I hate this place. If it aint the
thorns its the wait a minute vines, the elephant grass. You know what I mean?
Yeah, that grass cuts like a razor.
Sure do, said Big Tee, crouched down and pushing away at the elephant grass that
covered his face. This damn sure is one miserable place, my man, but even more so when
Charlies shooting at your ass.
Trying to gather their bearings, the men cautiously navigated the terrain, at times lying
low to duck the incoming fire. Even Sergeant Frank, who always reprimanded Johnny for
complaining, reached his breaking point. Miserable bastards, he yelled out, pulling a leech off
his neck. Theyre like damn mosquitoes. Theyre everywhere.
Drawn to the warm spots of the body and to blood on exposed skin, the miserable little
creatures managed to work their way onto and into the crooks of your limbs, into boots, on
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blood-stained forearms and on the neck.
With enemy rounds shredding the tree limbs above their heads and whizzing through the
elephant grass, Johnny asked Frank, Hey, remember when you got all over me for shooting that
leech up in Ple Ku?
Hell, yes, I do.
Well, now you know how I felt. They have a way of driving you nuts.
Yeah, they sure do.
Under the orders of Sergeant Donner, the platoon positioned itself in a defensive
perimeter. The squad leaders communicated by radio and called in their sit reps only to realize
they had sustained their first casualties of the day.
Chinese Bandit 1, Long Rifle 3. (Third Squad's call sign)
Weve got a WIA (wounded in action). Got a man hit on the chopper when it touched
down. He got into position before anyone noticed. I dont think he even realized it himself. Took
a round in the calf of his leg. Over.
Sergeant Donner answered, Roger that, Long Rifle. Can he fight for a while or until we
get a medevac chopper back later? Chinese Bandit, over.
Thats affirmative. Not a serious wound. Over.
Sergeant Frank radioed in Second Squads situation.
Chinese Bandit, Bow Hunter 2. We just took a WIA. Glen took a round in the back and
isnt looking too good. Was hit when he got off the chopper. Over.
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Once again Sergeant Donner replied, Roger that, Bow Hunter. Looks like were going
to need a medevac sooner than later. Bandit. Out.
Within seconds of the radio transmission, the Bandit squad RTO was saved by the very
radio he carried. An enemy round hit the PRC-25 radio square in the battery pack, knocking both
radio and the operator down a steep embankment. Specialist Fourth Class Cadell, the RTO,
called out, Im hit!
Sergeant Donner immediately ran to the aid of his radioman. Radio operators and
machine gunners were primary targets for the enemy because of their obvious value. After a
thorough examination by Sergeant Donner, he determined the only damage done: the radio
battery and Cadells already frayed nerves. After a change of the battery, both were back in
action. The shaken and ruffled but otherwise unscathed RTO said, Man, that was close. No
Purple Heart for that, Sergeant?
No, but theres a good chance you may still earn one today.
Cadell, another young Southern boy from Tennessee, with all the bravado and attitude he
could muster said, Airborne! I think.
The RTO and Donner had a faint but brief laugh for a moment. Back in Second Squad the
situation deteriorated. Johnny, Sergeant Frank and the boys were in a world of shit. Enemy
rounds, small arms fire and mortar rounds kicked up dirt and wreaked havoc all around them.
The incoming fire shattered the branches of nearby shrubs and trees. When the rounds whizzed
by his head, his face half buried in dirt, Johnny complained, See, man, this is what I was talking
about. This aint much fun, you know, like John Wayne made it look like.
Frank, in the same situation, replied, Aint easy either, you know, like John Wayne
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made it look.
Tell me about it.
In the meantime, Bill applied his skills on the badly-wounded Glen. In the deafening
noise and chaos, he screamed to anyone who could hear him, Were going to need a dust off
(medevac) soon or he may not make it. Im serious, call it in!
Bill did a terrific job in administering aid to the wounded. Without anybody realizing it in
all of the confusion, he daringly exposed himself to intense enemy fire when he ran into the open
area, and dragged Glen off the hot LZ to a safer position. With the help of another seasoned
fighter, Big Tee, Bill moved to Third Squads position to dress the wounds of their casualty.
For some of the troopers, this firefight, their first, became their baptism under fire. In the
confusion and chaos, one of the new replacements from the Third Squad ended up with First
Squad when he ran for his life.
An enemy round hit its mark. Damn! Ow! AHHHH, SHIT! yelled Sergeant Frank
when a shot rang out, followed by an explosion. Man! You okay? asked a concerned Johnny.
Frank winced; hed been hit in the arm. Man, you got blood streaming down your arm. You
okay?
Johnny saw his friend in pain, a concern for sure, but on a more self-serving note, he
realized there would now be one less rifle. Man, what a drag. Youre the best damn shot we got
and now you get hit. Do you think you can you shoot like that, man? I mean, with that arm?
Jesus. You gonna be all right, partner? We cant afford to lose you.
Frank grimaced in pain. Doc aided the more serious casualties, so Johnny dressed Franks
wound. Lets put something on that bad boy. It aint bleeding real bad, though; I think youre
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gonna live.
For an instant Frank and Johnny looked into each others eyes. Theyd sensed something
serious on the horizon, something beyond their control, and that something would be a life-
changing event for the two of them. It wasnt fear they shared; it went well beyond that.
Damn, it hurts, complained Frank.
Did you take a round or what?
Im not sure. Kind of looks like shrapnel, though. I dont know. Ill tell you what.
Theyre really starting to piss me off, you know? Ill shoot every one of these bastards one
handed if I have to.
Thats just what I wanted to hear you say, pal. I mean, at this point, you just may have
no choice if we lose any more guys.
Wheres Big Tee? asked a concerned Frank, wondering where the seasoned and
reliable rifleman could be.
Hes out helping Doc. Him and Doc out there taking care of guys who got hit.
Good. Doc couldnt get any better help than Big Tee and hopefully hell keep Doc alive.
I mean, Doc is fearless but crazy, you know?
I hear ya. Ill tell you what, though. I bet Big Tee is scared to death out there with all the
chances Doc takes. Hell, I just hope to God he dont get Big Tee killed. Know what I mean?
Yeah, me, too. Hey, Johnny, I was just thinking, with my arm messed up like this and
Big Tee busy working with Doc, you got your work cut out for you.
Im hip.
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Frank looked at the patch-up job Johnny did on him. You know, man, you didnt do a
bad job.
Thanks. I gotta tell you, though, I hope to God you can stay on.
Aint going nowhere, Johnny. You know, it feels like someone whacked my forearm
with a baseball bat or something, but Ill be okay. Its most likely just a piece of shrapnel from
that mortar round. Itll probably hurt more tomorrow than it does right now. Im pretty sure I can
handle my weapon though.
That declaration came as good news to Johnny. Thank God youre okay, man. I mean, I
cant imagine going through this shit without ya.
Thanks, Johnny.
Ill tell ya something else. Frank. I hope to hell Donners happy now.
Happy about what?
Contact. He said if we was lucky, wed make contact. Well, he got his wish.
Blue Max 6, need a little help. Bandit. Over.
Thats what Im here for. Over.
Roger that, Blue Max. Im going to have to move. Cant stay in position or will be torn a
new asshole. Over.
Roger that, Bandit.
Need HE (high explosives) in front of my smoke. Say again, HE in front of my smoke.
Chinese Bandit. Over.
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Roger that, Bandit. Anywhere else? Blue Max. Over.
The situation worsened when the paratroopers realized they were being probed from all
sides, and to add insult to injury, it started to rain. In the jungle, rain gave slippin and a sliddin
a whole new meaning.
Blue Max 6, need HE to my sides as well. Drop on my smoke. Popping it now. Bandit.
Over.
Roger that, Bandit. Blue Max. Over.
After making another steep embankment, the gunship reappeared, seemingly oblivious or
fearless, or both, to the heavy fire drawn from the enemy troops. Blue Max radioed Sergeant
Donner, Bandit, have a yellow smoke to your front and green smoke to your flank for target.
Affirmative. Over.
Thats affirmative. Say again, affirmative. Chinese Bandit. Over.
The choreographed collaboration of the smoke and HE (gunship rockets) was no less than
amazing. With a violent grace, Blue Max and the Bandit staged a precision ballet that couldve
played Carnegie Hall.
Blue Max called in for the results. Hows that, Bandit? Blue Max. Over.
Right on target, Blue Max. Outstanding! Over. Sergeant Donner then ordered the men
to make it to the tree line.
The entire earth shook with a violence that words couldnt describe. Donner hoped the
onslaught would rid the area of bad guys, at least temporarily. The recon platoon came to a point
in the firefight where relief wasnt only welcomed but necessary.
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The encore to the machine gun chopper, fire-themed dance came when Sergeant Donner
dropped the heavy shit on themthe artillery. The gunship attack helped enable the platoon to
move to a safer position to launch their ground attack. Donner planned to dislodge the enemy
with an attack that would immediately follow the ensuing artillery barrage. Thanking Blue Max
6 for the assist, he also cautioned him, Thanks, Blue Max. Perfect. Say again, perfect. Drinks
are on me at the club. Over.
Youre on, Bandit. Blue Max. Over.
Roger that, Blue Max. You best clear out. Heavy shit on the way. Bandit. Over.
Roger that, Bandit. Theyre waiting for me back at An Khe. Good luck. Out.
Chapter Nineteen follows below
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Chapter Nineteen
The Fight
MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! Sergeant Frank screamed at the top of his lungs while he
tried to get Rooney to respond to his command. It seemedthat the earth had moved, ridden itself
of the enemy, but in reality, the enemy survived.
How in the hell do these guys stand up to this onslaught? Ill tell you whattheyre
some tough little bastards, said Sergeant Donner, following the artillery barrage. Theyd gained
the respect of the troopers for their ability to take a beating, a brutal beating.
After they made it to nearby cover, Sergeant Frank did his best to console Rooney, who
understandably was shocked after he watched his friends lifeless body crumble to the ground
like some sort of game animal in a hunting documentary.
Hey, better to get zapped (killed) early in your tour, you know, rather than live through
this bullshit only to get it later. Possibly not the finest words of consolation, but the best he
could come up with, Sergeant Frank gave it a shot.
Johnny joined in, and said, Sarge is right, man. I mean, I know I wouldnt want to live
through all this bullshit and then Bam! I mean, what a drag. Might as well get it over with now.
God bless him, man.
A sickening thud, accompanied by a subdued groan was all that was heard when Private
Kings lifeless body hit the jungle floor. His life ended immediately upon commencement of the
attack. King had taken an enemy round to the neck.
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Man, I mean he just stood there, you know, passive like, with a blank stare, blood
spurting out of his neck. Jesus Christ!
Nineteen years of life ended in a flash; a muzzle-flash. Temporarily immobilized, Private
Rooney couldnt comprehend the incomprehensible.
Frozen in place, he continued to stare at his fallen comrades corpse. Sergeant Frank tried
again to comfort the young private, but the intensity of the incoming fire cut short the time for
any more explanations.
Snap out of it, Private. Thats an order!
Sergeant Donner called in the artillery, also known as a fire mission in the craft. Not an
easy task; the slightest mistake could easily reign the heavy stuff right on your own ass, and that
would be a costly mistake. The heavy stuff came directly from hell or heaven, depending on
whether you were the recipient or the donor. No one did it better than Sergeant Donner, and with
this tool of the trade, the tactician became more of an artist, an artist able to finesse the artillery
and topography into a deadly mosaic.
Slashing Tiger 25, this is Chinese Bandit 1. Fire mission. Over.
Bandit 1, this is 25 Fire Mission. Over.
Automatic weapons fire and mortars, grid 567-687, azimuth 3200. Gun target. First
round smoke. Will adjust. Over.
Bandit 1, grid 567-687, azimuth 3200. Over.
Thats affirmative. Over.
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On the way, wait. Over.
The smoke round, for adjustment, overshot the target. Donner then adjusted the artillery
and walked it toward the enemy fire.
25 adjust right 100. Add 200. Repeat with HE (High explosive artillery rounds.) Fire for
effect. Out.
And so it went, until Sergeant Donner warded off the enemy by placing the heavy stuff
right in their hip pocket. The artillery hadnt ridden the immediate area of the enemy. It did,
however, enable the troopers to move to safer ground. After relocating to a better position,
Donner requested a much-needed medevac, and re-enforcements.
Firebase Drummer, Chinese Bandit 1. Over.
Bandit 1, Firebase Drummer. Over
Drummer. Need medevac and re-enforcements ASAP, grid 557- 689. Say again,
medevac and re-enforcements, now! Chinese Bandit 1. Over.
Bandit 1. Firebase Drummer. Are you in same general coordinates as fire mission
request? Over.
Drummer. Thats affirmative. Over.
Bandit 1. Go to medevac frequency for pick-up of WIAs. ETA, approximately thirty
minutes. Over.
Roger that, Drummer. How about re-enforcements? Were in a world of shit here.
Over.
Roger that, Bandit. Sending a Blue team to help. ETA, forty-five minutes. Say again,
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ETA, forty-five minutes. Drummer. Out.
With the onset of the late afternoon rain it became imperative that the re-enforcements
and medevac get to the platoon ASAP. The obvious needs of getting the wounded to a hospital
and the re-enforcements on the ground would only worsen if the LZ were to be fogged in. If that
happened, the choppers wouldnt have been able to land for hours or possibly days. That
wouldve sealed the fate of the troopers.
Within minutes after the artillery barrage, thankfully, the intensity of the enemy fire had
lessened and a CP (command post) had been set up. Glen, King and the other casualties were
brought to the CP to be evacuated on the expected medevac. Third Squad came in as ordered to
guard the CP; First and Second Squad got ready to advance on the enemy. Sergeant Frank let it
be known that hed be able to fight and could still fire with effect. Donner felt relief when word
came that Sergeant Frank would be staying on. A definite asset, Donner didnt want to lose him.
His value was priceless due to his abilities and experience. Donner made it clear, however, that it
would be Franks decision to stay on with the platoon.
Not one to mince words, Sergeant Donner called him on the radio and stated his position.
Bow Hunter 2, this is Chinese Bandit. Understand youre WIA. If youre able to stay on with
us, thats great news, but if youre hurt badly, I want you on that chopper and out of here. Youll
be no good to us if we have to look after you. Over.
Roger that, Chinese Bandit. Ill be staying on. Just a scratch. Over.
Roger that, Bow Hunter. Bandit. Out.
Sergeant Frank looked over to Johnny and remarked, Damn, that mans all business.
Sergeant Donner knew there was no way that the platoon could stay in position for any
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length of time without drawing more mortar and small arms fire, so the sergeant decided to
move. They had no choice. After moving his casualties to the CP, and with the hopeful arrival of
the re-enforcements, Donner prepared to move out again.
At the An Khe base camp, the division reconnaissance action platoon, better known as
the Blues of the 1/9th Cavalry, changed its status from backup reserve to ready action. Once
contacted, the platoon got ready to go in a flash. Theyd been on a number of hot LZs and bailed
out many in need of help. According to Cav history, the Blues, an incredibly skilled and battle-
hardened combat unit, saw more action than all other combat units in Vietnam. These kinds of
hair-raising situations were not for the faint of heart, and no unit did it any better than they did.
The division recon team of the ninth Cavalry came with their own choppers and pilots, an
absolute team effort. Answering the call for assistance, the heavily armed troops scrambled out
of their tents to the waiting choppers. Word had it that their brothers in another recon platoon
were in need of help. Eager to assist, they, too, embarked on an adventure into the unknown
without hesitation.
Back at the scene of the firefight, Johnny and Frank were verbally sparring again. You
know, youre nuts, Frank. I mean, you should be on a dust off back to An Khe, you know,
getting a little R&R, not going out for more of this bullshit with us. Down deep in his heart,
though, Johnny couldnt have been happier that Sergeant Frank decided to stay on and fight.
Id miss your bitching if I went back to base camp and I wouldnt know what to do with
myself. Besides, I need to stay and watch out for you and the new guys. You know, us hillbillies
like this outdoor stuff.
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To tell ya the truth, man, I wouldnt want to go down this trail without your hillbilly ass
looking out for us. Looks like you and me again, brother. You know, it seems like its us against
the world, dont it?
Yeah, Johnny. I cant argue with that. I mean I mean, buddy Ive got to admit it, Im
glad youre here, too. Like you say, know what I mean?
Yeah, man, I know what you mean. This aint no time to get sentimental or nothing but
well just have to make the best of it. Maybe one day Ill write a song about this or about you.
Really?
Hell, yes, I mean it. You know, like the Davy Crockett song, or maybe Crazy Crockett
or something crazy like that. I mean, man, cause this shits stone crazy and youre damn sure
even crazier.
Frank, spitting chew out of his mouth, in his boyish Southern drawl said, Takes one to
know one.
While awaiting the order from Sergeant Donner to move out, the guys tried to get a fix on
the location of the continuing sniper fire directed at them. In position, Finney commented that
the place reminded him of the same spot where he killed that hardcore NVA soldier.
You know that saying, the more things change, the more they seem the same? Well, its
like thats whats going on.
What do you mean? asked Johnny.
Well, first off, we was just up here not that long ago, remember? I mean, you know,
now were back. I got bad feelings about this place. Its like, I dont know, we spend too much
time up here. It aint healthy, thats all. This is real close to where I shot that hardcore. I just
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remember how surprised the guy was when he saw me.
I know what you mean. Same shit happened to me. We was out on a recon before you
got here, see. Well, I came face to face with this VC. Man, like the guy was just a kid, you
know? Anyway, when I think about it, so am I.
So what happened?
Well, you know, the possibility of killing him was like a rush, you dig? I mean, the cat was like
really surprised. He looked at me and took off, so I opened up. I couldnt wait to see his dead ass
and at the same time I dreaded it.
Yeah, but you didnt have to spend the next couple of days with him lying a few feet
from you staring at the sky. Kind of bothers me, you know.
Yeah, thats right. We did stay in that position for a couple of days after you shot that
guy, right?
Yeah, we sure did.
Guess we could have moved him or at least buried his dead ass.
Well, we moved him, but not far enough. I could still see him and he got on my nerves.
He was the first guy I ever killed face to face. Kind of a drag, you know? Thank God, Sergeant
Frank had just checked on my position to make sure that I was alert or it might have had a
different ending. That gook might have shot me.
Sergeant Frank peered out over the landscape from his position. Addressing Finney, he
said, Like I say, especially to the new guys, its heads up out here. I think you learned that back
there, right?
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You bet, Sergeant Frank, and thanks again.
Trying to make Finney feel better about that incident, Johnny complimented him on the
kill. Man, that was a major kill. You did a real good job, man. Some of the papers the gook
carried was full of information or some shit that division used. At least thats what Donner said.
Its called intelligence, Johnny. You know, the info they got off the dead gook. But
youre right, Finney here did a good job, said Sergeant Frank.
Yeah, I know, Sarge. Thats what I was saying. Anyways, this whole thing stinks. I
know whenever Ive gotta kill somebody I kinda just ask God to forgive me, you know. I think
its easier to shoot em from a distance, you know, and then leave em there. It aint that easy to
live with em after theyre dead, you know, like then you gotta smell their stinking, bloated body
and look at em. That kind of stinks, literally. You know what I mean?
Sergeant Frank tried his best to lighten the mood, a difficult task considering their
situation, but asked the distraught and seemingly shocked Rooney a question. Private, are you
aware that Johnny here claims to be the Will Rogers of the U.S. Army?
No, Sergeant Frank, I wasnt aware of that.
Yeah, he likes to keep that quiet, you know. It might not be good for his image.
Whys that, Johnny? asked the young private. I mean, why do they call you the Will
Rogers thing?
Ready with the answer, Johnny said, Its obvious, man. I never killed a man I didnt
like.
Instead of a cymbal crash or a rim shot to accentuate the punch line, as if on cue, the bad
guys poured a fusillade on the squad as if to accentuate Johnnys punch line, or maybe they
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didnt like the punch line.
For whatever reason, Johnny and the other guys would talk about anything at the
strangest times, an obvious aversion. They were able to keep full concentration of the situation,
and at the same time they kept their hopes and dreams alive while they talked of things less life
threatening. In keeping with this, Johnny and Finney engaged in a conversation between
fusillades, near and dear to themguitars. Finney proceeded to ask Johnny about the make and
model of the guitar he played back in the world.
What kind of Fender (guitar) you got, man? Is it one of those made before CBS bought
Fender out, or what?
Oh, man, let me tell you. Its an original Stratocaster. Yeah, its an old one, man. Like I
told you before, its got a maple neck. Man, what a sound.
Yeah, I dig it. Those old Strats had an ash body, too. Is it a sunburst finish?
Yeah, man, and that ash body is pretty light, too. I wish I was back home playing it right
now instead of being in this fix were in now. Know what I mean?
Believe me, I know what you mean. Id prefer to be anywhere but here.
So you got an old jazz master, right? What color is your axe?
It was gold, you know, but I had it refinished. Blood red. You know, really pretty, same
color as that shit that comes out of your head when it gets blown off, you dig? Whod have
known?
Hey, man, I like red. I used to have an old, candy-apple red Telecaster, really pretty and
not a bad sound.
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For some reason, I think Ill have my guitar repainted either black or white. Who knows,
you know? I mean, if I dont, every time I play it Ill think of that gooks head leaving his
shoulders. Jesus Christ! You know what Im saying?
Johnny couldnt leave that line alone. Look, man, I dont think this is anything you
should lose your head over.
Jesus, Johnny. Youre one disturbed individual, you know that, right?
Sarge, you talking bout me?
Yes, yes, I am. You are sick.
Continuing, Johnny asked, So anyways, man, what guitar players did you dig?
I really dug some of those jazz cats, you know like Herb Ellis, Barney Kessel; I mean,
those cats can play.
Man, I know what you mean. Have you ever heard of a cat named Howard Roberts?
Like, I sure have, man. I dig him. What a sound. Most of those guys play the Gibson ES 175 or
the ES-355. You know, the kind of guitars with the F holes.
Im hip.
So who do you like, man?
Well, I like all those heavy Jazz cats, too, but I aint in their league. I mean, Im pretty
good but those cats are like from another planet. Know what I mean?
Yeah, I know. They play all those fat chords and read music, too.
Yeah, thats why I like the blues. Nothing fancy. Just play from the heart, you dig? I can
do that. Anyways, I dig guys like Albert King, Freddy King; you know, blues cats. I like the stuff
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that Jimmy Reed did, too. Know what I mean?
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Hey, talking bout Gibsons, I think B.B. plays one.
Yeah, man, he sure does. Its an ES-355. You know, the kind with no F holes. He sure
gets a great sound. Johnny, you ever heard of a new cat named Lonnie Mack?
Sure have. He did Memphis, right?
Thats right.
Yeah, the cats fast, and tasty, man. You know, when I get back to the world, theyre
going to hear from me. Im gonna have a hit, too. I can feel it coming. I know ones on the way.
Know what I mean?
Big Tee, the polite and smooth-talking realist, listened in on the conversation when he
pointed out that they best pay more attention to the immediate situation at hand. With your luck,
Johnny, the only hit youre gonna get will be a bullet in yo ass if you dont start paying attention
to whats going on here.
Dont worry about it, man. Johnny Richards got it under control. Just for that, no free
tickets for you and your lady when you all come to see me play.
Youre breaking my heart.
Seriously, Tee. I mean, you know, dealing with this crap aint easy.
You got that right, Johnny. It damn sure aint easy.
I mean, we could all get killed. Know what I mean?
Yeah, and you will if you dont pay attention.
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Oh, I am. Just need to talk about other stuff to keep my mind straight, thats all. You
dig?
Yeah, I dig.
An unusually humbled Johnny confided to the guys, I hope to God, you know, that Ill
see Chicago again. I mean, like, me and Mai, playing guitar, and all. Im like worried, man.
Dont feel like the Lone Ranger, Johnny. Were all scared shitless. Youll get back
there, one way or another.
Oh, thanks a lot, Sarge. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Like I said, youll get back one way or another.
Sergeant Donner, in position a few meters in back of Sergeant Franks squad, heard the
sound he longed for, that wonderful sound of the Cav coming to the rescue.
Sergeant Donner, got Medevac 8 calling on your frequency, said his RTO, Cadell.
Medevac 8, Chinese Bandit 1. Secured LZ. Will pop smoke, call for verification. Over.
Bandit popped a red smoke, and Medevac 8 responded. Bandit 1. Got a red smoke.
Over.
Thats affirmative. Bandit.Out.
In Vietnam, the Cav arrived in choppers, not on horses. That haunting sound of the
helicopter blades chopping through the wet air also had a flip side, a warm friendly and
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reassuring sound, a sound of hope, especially to the wounded.
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