Grunts View

By James Carlisle

The author in this book tries to give the reader more depth into the Viet Nam War. Not only does he cover his time in Viet Nam, both as a Grunt, and a REMF; but he covers some different and little known areas of the War; the people of Viet Nam, the Civic Actions that took place, Plus more of in depth look at what some of our men went through and how it has affected the Veterans. He tells how some of the political decisions cost the US casualties, and closes with who lost the War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450091602

James Carlisle

He went into the Marines at age 18 to get the GI Bill as he only had an 8th grade education with a masters at hard labor. He ended up serving in SVN in 1966 -67-68-70 and 1971. He was a 0311 infantry, better known as a grunt. His personal decorations include the Silver Star, Bronze Star w/v, 5 Purple Hearts, 3 Presidential Unit Citations, 6 Viet Nam Campaigns and numerous other awards. He served in every billet in a rifle platoon from private to platoon commander, which earned him a Combat Meritorious Promotion to Staff Sergeant. He now lives in Las Vegas NV with his wife.

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Copyright © 2010 by James Carlisle.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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CONTENTS

Opening

Some background

Viet Nam and its people

Civic Action In Vietnam

The VC

Corpsman and Chaplains

Medals

The Mighty Mattel—aka—, the M16A1 rifle

Purple Hearts

Causalties

The 1000 Yard Stare

Viet Nam 1966

Viet Nam 1967

Operation Union II (2)

Coming Home

Viet Nam 1968

July 1970

The Wall

Who Lost the Viet Nam War?

Glossary

OPENING

This is not your standard war story, where the main character performs act of valor, kills the entire enemy force and comes home to a grateful nation, and is greeted with parades and flowers. No this tale is told as it happened. Not how we wish it happened. Nor is it how Hollywood would portray it.

This story is dedicated to those who answered the call to arms; regardless if they were volunteered or drafted. As for our draft dodgers," from the ex presidents down; Fuck you.

Since the mind is a fickle beast and always tries to inflate our own egos; this is based on facts, taken first from official Marine Corps radio traffic. For more details than what I have provided regarding specific instances I would recommend the reader to ,TheVietnamfiles.com, found on the internet. As much as possible I have used that information found there to construct this story.

I have covered several areas not normally found in a story. The purpose is to hopefully give the reader a better understanding of what the average grunt went through in Viet Nam. Even though I did 3 tours in Viet Nam there were grunts that saw as much combat as I did in one tour. I missed the TET Offensive in 1968 and must say I am glad I was not there at that time. In our Civic Action Programs, a lot of grunts weren’t even aware of the depth of the programs. In my case I knew it existed but had no ideal of the scope of the program until I served as the S-5 Operations Chief for the 1st Marine Regiment in my last few months in Country.

War is and will always be a terrible experience to participate in. The majority of the men that served in Viet Nam were 18 to 21 years old. Their emotional scars will never be fully known or understood by those who were not there. The average teeth to tail ratio was better than 10 to 1. For every man in the field there better than 10 men in the rear areas in support functions. Some were rocketed or mortared. This book is not meant to detract in any way from their jobs, they were assigned a function and they fulfilled it. Yet it is a fact that a grunt could be in the field and 5 miles to the rear there were military personnel that were never even issued a weapon or fired a shot. However they still served their country.

This story is based on my experiences during my time IN Country. Where I served in every billet in a Marine Rifle Company from a rifleman to a Company Gunnery Sgt to a Acting Platoon Leader, when I was an E-5 Sergeant.

If one person who reads this can say thank you, to a veteran who was there, then I will feel like I accomplished what I set out to do by writing this book.

Jim Carlisle

S. Viet Nam 1966-1967-1968-1970-1971

Participant S.E. Asia War Games

Grunt USMC

SOME BACKGROUND

Viet Nam was broken down into 4 areas of responsibility, (1 Corps) was the northern 4th of what was S. Viet Nam. It was bordered by the DMZ and N Viet Nam in the north, by Thailand, and Laos on the west and the Pacific on the east coast.( 11Corps )was bordered by Laos and Cambodia (.111, and 1V Corps), shared a border with Cambodia.(1V corps), consisted of Saigon and the Mekong River Delta.

These areas were called a (TAOR), Tactical Area of Responsibility. Then within your TOAR it would be further broken down by (AO’s), areas of responsibility. This could go as far down as the platoon level, when a platoon was operating interpedently.

1 Corps had names of areas that became known to the American public, such as, the Rock Pile, DMZ, Khe Sanh, Da Nang, Chu Lai, Quang Nai, and HUE City. Other names such as Hill 55, Hill 327, Charlie Ridge, Arizona Territory, Dodge City, all will go down in Marine Corps legend. I am not sure how these names came about, so I am giving my best guess. Hill 55 was a major support base for different units through the war. Hill 327 became home to the PX, and USO, Red Cross, etc. and was later called Freedom Hill by some. Charlie Ridge area had high ridgelines, numerous caves, heavy jungle in areas, and difficult terrain to move through.( my platoon was inserted on a mountain peak once and it took us 2 days to move 500 meters down the side of the mountain using ropes).Contact with the enemy was almost always with local VC forces prior to TET in 1968, which it had been named by this time. Arizona territory was southwest of Da Nang and a major through fare for NVA moving north or towards Da Nang. Any time a Marine Unit went into this area you were going to run into the bad guys, (Indians-VC/NVA) so the name stuck. Dodge City area was in the Arizona Territory and you were in for a Gun Fight, when you went into that area. This area also was known as having the highest concentration of mines and booby traps in country.

The Vietnam War will never be over for the men and women that served there, in either the combat units, or in direct support of those units, such as the nurses, helicopter crews, etc.

This book is being written for several reasons. To honor those whose names are on the WALL; To honor those Marine’s, Corpsman, and Chaplains that served. To honor those who came back, who really suffer from PTSD, not the phony bastards that wear camouflaged utilities and claimed to be baby killers.

Last but not least of all to those hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese who believed in us and we left hanging in the breeze.

Finally I am trying to give some background on the war that the public was never told about by our biased press.

Thus at times we vet’s have discussed the question of who were the lucky ones? Those that came back in caskets: or those of us who are still here. For the dead, it is over for them. They did not come back to being spat upon, called baby killers, rapists, murdering bastards, and being treated like we had leprosy

Then we have the maimed that came back. I remember a LT in the hospital with me. He could sit upright in a wheelchair as everything was gone from his belly button down. I don’t know how he survived. Those that came back missing arm, legs, or both, are they lucky or cursed? These men that came back this way at first they were just happy to be alive. Then they found themselves being ignored or patronized. Then they had to battle with VA and Social Security over disability pay. So then the bitterness set in, from being treated as second class citizens.

Then we have PTSD. For years I thought of it as the posing of fakes at the end of Vietnam. A lot of them went on national TV; some even made it into the sub committees of the House and Senate where they whined about how they were mistreated, and how they had committed atrocities. It beggars the mind. I have often wondered, was the press and Congress really that stupid, or was it all for the publicity? I don’t think we will ever know for sure in this life time. I mean lets get real; the press is trained to verify sources. If a Congressman was stupid enough to swallow that horse shit he should first be shot and then hanged in the halls of Congress. I know they should have had enough brains to verify, but they think the American public is fat, dumb, and happy. Why else do we pay them to slop at the public trough of funds? Why after those people were finally exposed as frauds they were, wasn’t something done. Where were the dramatic announcements to watch channel six about how they were fooled? These so called baby killers had never seen Vietnam. The press and Congress never even tried to prosecute any of them for lying under oath to Congress.

When a real combat veteran came home, the first thing he did was get rid of his uniforms. He wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing jungle utilities. He was trying to forget the horrors he had seen and not think of the friends he lost. He had survivor’s guilt, why did he make it back when so and so didn’t. The last thing he wanted to do was wear a uniform of any type, and be reminded of the horrors he had been through.

Even now he does not sit with his back to the door, he’s always looking around, he doesn’t like being in stores, he doesn’t enjoy shopping with his wife. Flies into a road rage over the most trivial matters. When out in public at a restaurant when sitting with his back to the wall, he wants to see everyone entering and leaving. They don’t like crowds; he doesn’t make very many friends, if any. Sure you have co workers and people you have to mingle with. You don’t want to go to church with your wife. You have to bite your tongue when she say’s something you didn’t like or you will flare into an instant rage. For if they make some remark that you don’t agree with, you fly into a rage quickly. Then you have two choices; go postal on the asshole and end up in the brig, or your other option is to turn away, That is harder to do than walking into a fire fight. Their aderelian is so high when they walk away they get physically sick to the point that you have to go to a head and puke your guts out. They become withdrawn and moody. They wake up several times a night from nightmares. (The difference between a dream and a nightmare is a dream you sleep through. A nightmare wakes you up with heart pounding and sweating like you just got out of a steam room).

They can’t get more than two to three hours of sleep at a time. You sweat so bad you have different pillows to sleep on so one is dry, when you go back to bed. You sleep with a forty five caliber pistol under your pillow. A sudden loud noise you jump and start looking for cover. You take your kids to the Grand Canyon. While they are oowing and awing you realize you were picking out the best sites for your Machine Gun Team. It never goes away. You find you’re up at three o’clock in the morning checking to see that the doors and windows are locked. Some one cuts you off in traffic. Instant road rage and profanity as only a Marine can yell out. You find solace in a bottle, then realize liquor is a fickle bitch and needs more each day to cloud your mind. Some of your fellow vet’s have turned to drugs. At least you are smart enough to avoid that, for it is a one way ticket to the depths of your being. You think about driving your car into a bridge abutment at ninety miles an hour. At least your children would have some insurance to help them. They would be unable to rule it as suicide. Then you realize that you may lay your demons to rest, but what type of demons would you be leaving for your children. So what good would that do? If you do a suicide that you will hurt your children immeasurably. Do you have the right to do that? Your wife divorcees you because she can not change you into the man she thought she had. You still want a normal life so you force yourself to do things you find uncomfortable. Find another good woman and marry her. Then the cycle repeats itself until you look up one day and you don’t know if you are married to wife number six, or number seven. Then you start asking your self;. Self am I crazy or what is the problem? You go to the VA to see if you can get help. Because of your Purple Hearts you can get free medical.

The Dr. advises you to try mental heath which holds PTSD class for once a day, per week, for sixteen weeks. You listen as Vets after Vet after describes your symptoms. You find out that at last you are not crazy at least.

When you lead men in combat and you lose one, regardless if you are a fire team leader of three men or a Division commander with twelve thousand men under you it hurts. You still have a job to do, so you push those feelings down. They come back in later life to haunt you too.

At the same time there is no better feeling than leading men in combat, I can’t explain why, it is just there.

The stories here are taken from official USMC radio logs that were recorded and collected and placed on DVD’s. They can be accessed on the net. The net address is "WWW THE VIETNAM FILES.COM. For a small fee you have access to over one hundred CD’s. You can find more information than you need to know about Marine Units involved in the war.

Since it has been more than thirty seven years since these events occurred. I first took the info from the files, and then used memory to fill the story with details. It was amazing to see how some of these events were remembered. Even now it has taken me over six years to tell this story. I would write for a few weeks and then go for months without writing anything. I had to alter my memory several times both because I remembered myself in a much more flattering light, or I had buried a lot of bad memories, as they were worse than what I remembered. It just goes to show you that the Ego wants to be fed. So this book is based mainly on facts. If I could not find copies of what memories said happened, I left it out. Looking at these logs, I know I am No Hero; I was scared more times than I care to admit. It has been said that Combat is nothing more than hours and hours of boredom, broken by moments of sheer terror. I wanted to tell it like it was, not how the American Press reported it or how Hollywood has portrayed it. It says a lot about the American Public when Stallone rose to glory, fame, and riches by portraying a crazed Vietnam veteran. Stallone spent his war years making porno movies. This where his nickname,: the Italian Stallion, came from. That is a real career builder for your kids to look forward to, and be proud of. I hold his movies on a par with Jane Fonda; you could not pay me to go sit through one. The movies Rambo, the Deer Hunter, the Platoon, and Full Metal Jacket were all as far from the truth as only Hollywood could do.

War is and always be a terrible experience to participate in. The average grunt was between eighteen and twenty years old. Their emotional scars will never be fully known or understand by anyone who was not there.

There is a very large group of people that will tell you they were there and how they earned their medals. Try to pin one down as to what unit they were with and they come up with some bullshit answer and you have the option of calling them a liar, or let them tell their lies the way they want. The majority of our veterans are not bragging about their medals or how they received them. For you can bet that at the time of the action, for which they were decorated, someone or several of his buddies died.

I have yet to meet a combat veteran of that war that has not been married anywhere from two times to seven times. Me I am lucky I am only on number 6. You hope each time it is the last one.

I was in a lounge in 1990 minding my own business when three men in civilian clothes came in claiming to be Marines that had saw action in Viet Nam. They were sprouting off as to how bad the world had treated them since they came back. Finally after two hours of this I told them to just shut up as they were not even old enough to have been in Viet Nam. They immediately jumped up and started telling me how they were going to kick my ass. I left and went out to my car to go home. They followed me out to my car telling me how they were going to kick the shit out of me. I lived ten minutes from there, when I got home I picked up a picture of myself in my Dress Blues with my medals on, in the picture. I returned to the bar and laid the picture on the bar and ordered a drink. Upon their jumping up and telling me how they were going to kick my ass and hurt me, I just pointed at the picture and told them to shut up or put up. They looked at the picture, then one another and they left without a word. The bartender told me he was in the process of calling the police when they left. Then asked me what I said to them. My reply was that I showed them my picture and told them to shut up or put up. He was still puzzled and asked again why they left? I explained that my guess was that they were Marine Reserves, saw the picture, and knowing what the medals in the picture were for they left. Then he asked me what I would have done if they swung on me. I simply told him I would have killed all three of them. That ended that conversation.

War being what it is if you want to survive you find a twisted sense of humor. Marines being Marines they wrote on their flak jackets, helmets or had Zippo lighters engraved with something. It could be his home town, his girlfriends name, his unit, or one of the following varieties. (There were more, but these are the ones I remember). Such as follows;

If you can read this back the fuck up; you are too close.

Life has a flavor that the protected will never know

When I die bury me face down, so the world can kiss my ass.

"When I die I am going to heaven for I have spent my time in hell.

USMC = Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.

USMC = unnecessarily shit and mass confusion.

Be careful where you step, I do not want my health record altered yet

If I die before you, have a drink to remember me by, If you die before me I will have one and by the way, fuck you too.

I am a lover not a fighter, so get me the fuck out of here.

I am a Drunkard by choice a Marine by mistake.

If you want to run with the big dogs get off the porch and kill someone.

Ours not to reason why, ours is to do or die

Please Mr. Johnson I don’t want to die here.

The Ace of Spades drawn on a helmet was popular, so were Peace Symbols"

Then we always seemed to have the brave souls that would draw a target on their helmet and flak jackets. Then label it with, You can’t hit me" After one or two Marines would be shot in the X ring of the target on their helmet there would be a run for new helmet covers and flak jackets were scribbled out.

The average tail to combat to support a grunt was ten to twelve men in the rear for everyone in the bush In other words when we had five hundred thousand troops in Vietnam only fifty to sixty thousand were grunts in constant danger. If not for the tail the teeth would not be so sharp.

We were sent to Vietnam for one purpose only that was to kill the enemy. We were quite successful at it I might add. The US trained us and sent us there to do what we had trained for. A lot of Marines thought it was better to fight there than in our home towns. How else can you explain thirty thousand Marines extended their tours by six months between 1965-to-1969? Then some Marines pulled two and three tours in Vietnam. I heard through scuttlebutt that there were Marines on their fourth tour. All I can say is I never met one. Three tour veterans were fairly rare. Almost every Marine had a short timer’s calendar. Take a Playboy or Penthouse picture draw whatever you wanted too on the picture. The important thing was to put squares or triangles on the picture to represent the same amount of days you had left. This was before you could climb