So Where Is Vincent Williams

By v.h. markle

A soldier goes to war. He lives through the hell of death and destruction. All he wants, is to return to his wife and young son. His life changes because of lies and betrayal by those who sent him to war. A fictional story, or is it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499034363

v.h. markle

About the Author Just an average guy who served his country in a very unpopular war. I am still searching for the light at the end of the dark tunnel. I spend my time in my art studio, on the computer writing another story, and falling in love with my wife all over again.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Hooch

Staff Sergeant Vincent Williams U.S. Army, was born and raised in a small town, located in Southeastern Pennsylvania. He sits on his bunk and stares at a photo of his wife of 16 months and his 10 month old son. Yes the numbers are right. Vincent’s thoughts mingled between his family and the commotion in the hooch. Just another day in the Nam.

For every five to ten days in the jungle, some combat soldiers in the Nam, spent two to three days drinking with their new brothers, writing letters home, reading letters from home, playing cards and sleeping. Some days you and a few of your close friends might take a trip to the local tea and whoopee parlor. If your one of those people with nothing but bad luck, you just might have to spend some of your off time waiting in the clap line for your next cure it all, shot of penicillin. If you were really unlucky, you might be that one in a million looser who contracts the dreaded BRAND X. The big X was a strain of V.D. which just happened to be incurable. This was one of the horrors and secrets of the Vietnam war. Just one of the things seldom mentioned to anyone at anytime.

Vince continued staring at a picture of his wife Sheri and his son Dan. Vince received his orders for Vietnam the day Sheri gave birth to Dan. Two months later Vince was on a plane to Vietnam. Now the only thing on Vince’s mind was getting home to his wife and the little guy.

Vince looked at his short-time calendar. He reached up and marked off another day. Vince had 120 days left in that god forsaken place. Just 120 days and then a life time with Sheri and the little guy Dan.

Vince at one time thought of making a career of the military. That all changed the first time he held his son and saw the little guy smile. At the time Vince thought it was a smile, Dan was just passing some gas. Vince thought about going to college. He loved history and eastern philosophy. He thought maybe with the GI bill he would leave the military, go to college and major in History. He thought about teaching and maybe being the coach of the high school baseball team. Most of Vince’s thoughts were still focused on the women he loved and his little son. For the time being he spent his moments off duty, in his hooch, and with his unwholesome, but well intending hooch-mates.

A Hooch was just a rectangular wooden structure anywhere from 20 feet by 35 feet to 30 feet by 40 feet. Some a little smaller and some a little larger. This one was one of the larger ones. This hooch, like every other hooch in a combat zone was surrounded be a six foot high, two bag wide, sandbagged wall.

Inside what was affectionately named The Shit Hole, were two highly sought after, refrigerators. Refrigerators were worth their weight in gold. There was a double metal locker and a footlocker for each of the Shit Hole residents. They each slept on a very uncomfortable metal spring, WW II surplus bed. The footlocker was placed at the foot end of the bunk. In the center of the hooch was an official size card table, possibly the only one in Vietnam. On the north wall was a hand built, liquid refreshment bar, and it was stocked with the best scotch, vodka, gin, and bourbon that can be bought, bartered, or stolen. This was their home, their Shangri-La. This was their own private home away from home, THE SHIT HOLE.

Three of Vincent’s bunk mates, Sgt. Terry Adams, a home boy from Pennsylvania, Sgt. Steve Gender, from Dallas Texas, and Cpl. Edward Wilson Wade from Wooster Massachusetts, were sitting around the card table in the center of the hooch. They were engaged in a loud game of pinochle. Vincent’s fourth hooch-mate, Sgt. Jim Turner from Detroit was relieving himself outside the hooch. Jim thought he was a little to drunk to make it to the latrine, which was only two building down from The Shit Hole.

Turner returned to The Shit Hole and grabbed himself another beer from the fridge. Turner sat at the table took a long drink then began discussing the ridiculous moves played by his idiotic pinochle-playing roommates.

Vince’s fifth hooch-mate, was Corporal Billy Smith, from New York City. Billy was one of the few medics who made house calls. Smity, as he was called by everyone, tried desperately to catch up with some well deserved sleep. Sleep was the one thing you never seemed to get enough of. This is one of the few days Corporal Smith was not engaged in the brutal and senseless combat between the clap lines and cases of dysentery or jungle rot. Why the Corporal chose The Shit Hole, to bunk in, is beyond anyone with any form of human intelligence. The Shit Hole was filthy. It stank of booze, cigarettes, cigars, vomit, urine, and anything else that stinks. All in all, it was still home for Vince and his, uneducated, unmotivated, moronic, misunderstood odd, very smelly, disgusting brother roommates.

Vince placed the photo back on the small table next to his bunk. He turns toward the loud voices of his moronic, brother roommates. Don’t you idiots ever get tired of playing nucks? Vince grumbled as he grabbed the beer from Turner’s hand. Why don’t you go out of this place and get laid or something.

Get your own fuckin beer, Jim yelled as he pulled the beer bottle from Vince’s hand.

Sergeant Kerry Adams slapped an ace of diamonds on the table, then grabbed the pile of cards. When the hell are you idiots ever going to remember to count trump, you aren’t even idiots you are all brainless tit-wads. He shouted.

Adams began shuffling the cards for another hand. Gender stood up and went for another beer. Turner sat in his chair lighting a large Cuban cigar.

No way my brother. No more Jenny Lee’s for me Ed Wade was slurring his words. I heard Sergeant Cummings got the big X.

Turner took a puff on the Cuban, "I hear they’re shipping him out to Japan. Then it’s the trip to Never-Never Land.

Billy sat up on his bunk. It’s true, Cummings got Brand X. If they can’t cure him in Japan it’s on to Okinawa and an unmarked grave."

The hooch became silent for a few minutes. The guys sat around the card table, then the game continued and things went back to normal.

Hey Popeye, Gender shouted. You got another briefing today.

No shit, I got a couple of hours, it’s not till 1100 hours, Vince replied. Anyone want to get some breakfast?

Pretzels and beer, the breakfast of idiots, Gender shouted as he held up a warm bottle of beer in one hand and a hard pretzel in his other hand.

Billy stood up, I’ll go with you.

Vince walked to the door. See you assholes when I get back

Jim walked over to Vince, Just take it easy and no heroics.

That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, Vince replied.

Billy and Vince reached the mess tent and went in line. What you got that’s good? Vince asked.

Not a damn thing, the mess Sergeant replied, You want something good, go to McDonalds.

Holy shit Sarge, you’re a little touchy today. Vince smiled at the sergeant, an Allentown, Pennsylvania home boy.

Billy and Vince, sat at a table next to Colonel Ton Soo Nue, the on base, Korean Commander.

Holy shit this coffee sucks, Vince said.

Colonel Nue reached down to the floor next to his right leg and brought up a bottle of Jack Daniels Bourbon. He poured a little into Billy and Vince’s cups and a lot more bourbon in his own, extra large coffee mug. Which was probably the reason the Colonel was always smiling. Popeye, You going out tomorrow?

Vince nodded his head. No shit, lucky me,

Captain Lee has something for you when you deploy, the Colonel said quietly, with that same red cheeked smile on his face.

Billy took a gulp of the coffee. Now that’s a cup of coffee.

The Colonel continued smiling, As you American’s say, Good, ain’t it.

The three men finished their breakfast. Billy went back to the Shit Hole. Colonel Nue walked with Vince to the supply room. They spoke in Korean for a few minutes then the Colonel headed for the officers latrine. Vince walked into the supply room and began to checked out all the necessary supplies his team would need for their upcoming mission.

Vince signed out a PRC-74 and a PRC-66 radio for his two radio men. The PRC-74 was used for it’s long range capacity. The PRC-66 was used to communicate with aircraft. He inventoried all the supplies that had just been loaded into the duce- and- a- half. He checked everything twice, he wanted to be sure there was nothing missing.

He began to walk toward the weapons room, when Master Sergeant Bean the supply sergeant stopped him. Popeye, he whispered. I got a case of Johnny Walker Black. I’ll send a couple of bottles over to the Shit Hole for you.

Keep them’ till I get back, otherwise, those pigs I live with will finish them before I get a chance to taste any of that smooth good stuff .

Ok, what ever.

Vince walked to the weapons room, checked out a new Car-15 and a .38 revolver. Vince’s MX21 sniper rifle was back inside his locker at the Shit Hole. He made sure he took some extra ammo for his three war toys. He finished his supply duties then made his way to the briefing room and waited for everyone to show. Vince was a highly qualified sniper. He was the only sniper attached to the Korean Advisory Unit.

It was 1030 hours. Most of Vince’s unit consisted of Tiger ROK’s, from the Korean command stationed on a combined Army, Air Force Base located in the north-central area of South Vietnam. The two radio men on Williams’ team were both half-Korean and half-American, Charlie Brown from Detroit Michigan and Han Mok from Soul Korea. The other four American members of the seven man Lone Wolf team were Lt. Mack Harris, Technical Sergeant Jason Peters, Private 1st Class Joey Andrews and Pfc Art Johnson. The other five Korean members of Lone Wolf were Lt. Yoo Ja, Sergeants Sin Ja, and Park O, and corporals Lee So and Lee Pan.

Vincent spoke fluent Korean, Spanish, German and Russian. He also had a working knowledge of Vietnamese and Japanese. Vince was twelve years old when he first began training in both Ching-I and Aikido. He is an expert with all firearms and a natural with a snipers rifle. He also had extensive training in many hand held weapons. Vincent’s survival training was extensive. Vince spent a month, alone, in the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico. He completed a Sixty-two day long Alaskan wilderness survival training exercise. His last survival exercise was five weeks, alone, in the Everglades in Florida. Vince also had twenty-eight free fall jumps including, four HALO jumps of over 18,000 feet to his credit. To say he was highly skilled and trained was an understatement.

Every mission is a challenge, every mission could be your last