The ROCK Story
by A. Nonymus
Another sunrise in Vietnam, one day closer to the
freedom flight back to the world for the SP/4 grunt of the 101st. Like everyday, he
didn't know or care what day of the week it was, because they were all the same except
for what kind of insanity would befall him that day.
It had been 3 or 4 weeks since alpha company had left Sally, just enough time for the
linedogs to become extremely dirty, nasty and stinking, They were again starting to feel
the exhaustion from the daily hump in the mountains with their rucksacks kicking their
butts. Not knowing how soon they would stand down at a fire base or at Sally was lowering
their morale and increasing the level of profanity towards one another. There was just
nothing to be civil about, they were physically miserable. The clean jungle fatigues they
had gotten at Sally were now disgusting with weeks worth of sweat and filth. Many of them
had open infected sores on their forearms caused by the thorns of the unforgiving wait a
minute vines. The biting flies were always a minor irritant with their penchant to snack
on the infectious ooze of the afore mentioned unwashed, untended wounds.
But on this particular morning it was clear without the threat of rain which made a
bad situation somewhat brighter. The word had been passed down to the platoons to eat
and police up the trip flares and claymores as quickly as possible because they were
in for a long hump that day. The usual amount of grumbling and griping went on as the
grunts prepared to saddle up their packs for the days jungle jaunt. It wouldn?t be too
bad today because tommorow would be re-supply and everyone was carrying only a days
ration of food and water. (It was the day after re-supply that the rucksack
straps painfully cut into their shoulders.)
One particular SP/4 was hoping today
would go down as another not worth remembering. Just hump all day to another place in
the jungle without making contact with the NVA. It would be OK because his squad
wasn?t on point. All he planned on contending with this day was the Ashau Valley and
the sweltering afternoon heat. He had been in country more than half his tour by now
and had become lean and accustomed to the climate.
Later that morning, with a few
klicks behind him, it happened. Something to make this day stand out in his memory 30
years later. Something to look back on and silently chuckle about.
Setting the stage:
The Sp/4 was somewhere in the middle of the company column, as always keeping his spacing
so a grenade or RPG with someone else?s name on it would not take him out also. The
column of grunts were making a long descent down a mountainside with the Sp/4 halfway
down. Ahead of him is a fallen tree in the trail with enough room to walk under.
Then it happens. A troop at the top of the descent accidentally slips and kicks a rock
loose. The ROCK, about half the size of a bowling ball with a nice round shape
immediately begins to gain a great deal of momemtum as it hurtles downward toward the
unsuspecting Sp/4. As he bends at the waist and ducks sideways to get under the fallen
tree the "ROCK" gets airborne! Perfect timing. Perfect trajectory. The "ROCK" crashes
into his helmet head. Stunned by this impact to his helmet he drops to his knees. What
the hell was that? He sees the "ROCK" and his helmet both roll to the bottom of the
ravine. Realizing he is not seriously hurt his disbelief quickly turns to rage towards
the careless ?ROCK? kicker. If the NVA had been within 5 klicks they were treated to
one of the most outstanding 5 minute barrages of profanity that was ever unleashed in
the Nam. Threats of bodily harm, mother name calling, the whole nine yards.
Later,
after getting to their night defensive position, the SP/4 reflected about the days
event. The sun was setting, he had a good piece of ground to sleep on, he was still
alive. It had been another good day in the boonies.
Anonymous SP/4