The Ice Cream Incident
by
By Don Gourley, 2-C-1/501 1969
This is a REMF story, so apologies in
advance to all whom I will offend by telling it.
In March of '69 I got a new guy in my platoon; let's just call him Pvt. Alpha.
We were operating in the Phu Bai II area, patrolling and ambushing in the big
graveyard outside the ville. Pvt. Alpha wasn't with us for 24 hours before Doc Abney
sent for me and I found him and the HQ doc working on the guy, who was curled in the
fetal position, crying and shivering, snot running from his nose into his mouth. Doc
Abney and I agreed immediately that he was scared, not sick but the HQ doc was afraid
it might be malaria and wanted to evac him that afternoon. I raised hell but CPT
Gibson counseled me, saying that we couldn't take the chance; if it was malaria we had
to treat it immediately and if it was b/s, well, we'd soon find out and know what we
were dealing with.
He was back 72 hours later; no malaria and no other medical problems so now we
knew and now CPT Gibson warned me that I'd better keep a close eye on Alpha. To get
him in the right frame of mind, I had him walk point that night, with me as slack,
from the edge of the ville 300 meters to a pre-ambush site on the edge of the
graveyard. What he didn?t know was that during the previous three days we'd been all
over this area and considered it pretty safe. It was his first time on point and when
we got there he was already a basket case. Now it was time for a heart-to-heart talk.
Over the next couple of months I had no trouble with Pvt. Alpha; in fact I saw
very little of him, as he went home on emergency leave twice because of problems
there. Fortunately, things were pretty quiet when he was around but in general, he
demonstrated that he was a disaster waiting for a place to happen. When he returned
after the second leave, he had a rear job offer in hand from SSG Martinez, the 1/501
Mess Sergeant and CPT Gibson asked me what I wanted to do. I went ballistic, said he
didn't deserve a rear job, there were 10 men in the platoon who did and so forth.
Gibson agreed but also said that I knew damn well that Alpha was no good in the field
and sooner or later was going to get himself or someone else killed. On that basis, I
went along with CO; Alpha went to the mess section and I never thought of him again.
In August I became a remf with A Co and this meant among other things, that I
got to eat in the mess hall. In fact, I got to eat in the officer/senior NCO section
of the mess hall where to my amazement, they had DROs (that's dining room orderly).
My first night there, as I walked through the door who do I see but Pvt. Alpha, big as
life standing there looking at me. All I could think was, "Holy shit, this is the guy
I threatened to kill who's now hanging with the druggies and bad asses in the mess
section. He's probably told them about me and they've told him to roll a frag under
my hooch tonight" I almost had a heart attack.
Well, I didn't have anything to worry about. Pvt. Alpha came over to me,
shook my hand and thanked me for helping him out. Told me things were fine at home
now, he loved his job and everything was #1 with him. Good news for me for sure.
In fact it got better. Not only was he a DRO, Pvt. Alpha was the Head DRO and
he took good care of me. The Head DRO was the man who gave out the meat and the
dessert. When I went through the line, he'd dig deep and give me an extra large slab
of water buffalo. Then when the DROs served (yes, they actually delivered it to the
tables) the dessert, Pvt. Alpha would bring me an extra large piece of cake, dish of
pudding or whatever. Life was good and I certainly didn't want to offend him in any
way so I ate what he gave me.
We all know that ice cream was a rare treat, which seldom seemed to get down
to the combat units (I'm sure they had it every night at the higher Hqs and probably
bitched about the flavors, too). When it did find its way to the sharp end of the
stick, it went first to the troops in the field. Then if there was any left it went to
the enlisted side of the mess hall and finally, if there was still some left, to the
officer/senior NCO side. That's fair enough and when it did get to us, it was a major
event. The word would go out and there would be 100% attendance at the mess hall that
night.
This was probably some time in November; it was ice cream night and everyone
was there. I can't recall all the names and faces but MAJ Reich was one or two seats
down from me and Dan O'Neill was across the table. We quickly plowed through the
buffalo and now it was time for the ice cream! The DROs began to serve it and the
portions were tiny (SSG Martinez had already warned us that there was not very much
left) but we didn't care, it was ice cream.
The guys at my table got their servings, one small scoop practically lost in
those green plastic Army mess hall bowls when, as usual, Pvt. Alpha brought me mine.
It was enormous, obscene even; there was ice cream piled to the ceiling and
overflowing the sides; must have been 10 scoops there. Everyone's eyes bugged out and
I started eating as fast as I could, knowing the shit was going to hit the fan any
second and wanting only to finish what I could before they took it away from me.
Suddenly, Dan O'Neill jumped up and yelled something like, "Goddamnit Gourley,
I'm sick of this shit," to which I replied, "What are you talking about O'Neill",
except that with my mouth so full of ice cream I was pretty incoherent. Dan was on a
roll, others were looking and commenting and while he kept yelling, I kept eating. He
said, "Alpha was in your platoon wasn't he? He's always taking care of you and I'm
pissed off. Look at this shit; we get tiny bowls and you get a huge portion of ice
cream." Meanwhile, I was eating a mile-a-minute and figured if I had 30 seconds more
I could finish it all, so I said the obvious, classic infantry officer thing to stall
for time, "Fuck you O'Neill!"
There was by now quite a row going on in this normally genteel group and
finally, MAJ Reich as senior officer present, decided to take charge. He told Dan to
sit down then said to me in that German accent of his, "Vell, LT Gourley iss it true?"
Everyone was listening; you could hear a pin drop. With barely a couple of spoonfuls
left and still shoveling it in, I asked, "Is what true, Sir?"
"Iss it true that Pvt.
Alpha vas in your platoon?"
Now finished, I was content and ready to take my punishment like a man so I
said, "Yes sir." and waited for the explosion, which never came. MAJ Reich said, "Ach
so, I see." And that was the end of the ice cream incident, although I don't think Dan
and some of the other guys ever forgave me.
Don Gourley
2-6
C/1/501