A Year In Vietnam
by Ken Hornbeck
I
t all began with the orders. Officers picked names--out of a hat, out
of a computer, who the hell knew? They were written in that curious
bureaucratese perfected by the U.S. military, cyclostyled and sent to you
in many, many copies. Your name, somewhere on them.
"The following personnel will report to....."
They never said Vietnam. Oh, no, that would have been too direct, too
straightforward.
You had to ask the Sergeant, or the Capt. "Hey, where's the 22nd
replacement depot?" or "Where's this APO 96384?"
Always a laugh, next. Hell, he wasn't going. His name wasn't on the
list. Yours was. Tough luck. Get the chaplain to punch your tough-shit
card. Yeah, well, you're not the only one who says he can't leave his
girl friend behind.
"That's Vietnam, my boy."
Leave. Everybody got pre-Vietnam leave. It was sort of like the last
meal, While the electrician gets the chair prepared. The family was
shocked. The girl was weeping, although i really believe that most guys
tried to milk that one to the point of putting the heavy moves on.
A last night--usually alone or with a couple of other doomed companions
because the reporting centers were on the west coast and often required a
day or two of travel to reach.
Most went to Vietnam by airplane, and most by civilian jetliners,
stewardesses and all. So it wasn't really real. Until, that is, the
final letdown. Everyone quietened, searching for the anti-aircraft fire
and the heavy battles.
But the first impression of the Nam was always the heat. It cloyed at
you as soon as the doors opened on the aircraft. The armpits bled.
Then came the inevitable briefings, but your year was underway. You were
in the Nam, in the war zone, two medals already sewed up. Hey, it wasn't
bad at all, right?
Okay, wrong, but you survived that landing and found that the mortars
didn't get you as you walked down the steps of the airplane.
The military transports were noisier and more cramped. The ships took
longer. But that first impression has never gone away, has it?
Ken Hornbeck
D/1/501: Vietnam 1969-'70