A Year In Vietnam

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by Ken Hornbeck

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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