I Was There…Sometimes I Still Am: Day to Day Life as an US Soldier in Vietnam

By Ernest G. Taylor Jr.

Ernest Taylor II is retired after working forty years as a Chemical Engineer in Houston. He got his decree from Stephen F. Austin in Nacodoches Texas. He is from a small town in East Texas called Lufkin. His father was a dentist.

His mother Zoe Taylor, was one of the first women to graduate from Stephen F. Austin. He was the middle child having an older sister and a younger brother. He grew up middle class America in the 1950’s and had a good childhood.

He wanted to share his experience in war of the “ day to day “ life of a soldier so it’s not about any heroic wartime feats. Ernest would say all soldiers who go to war for the US are heroes.

Ernest lives in Bellville Texas with his wife Brenda and their pets. He enjoys volunteer work , gardening, and hunting. He has two sons and a step daughter and son and lots of grandchildren.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823009348

Book preview

I Was There…

Sometimes

I Still Am

Day to Day Life as an US Soldier In Vietnam

ERNEST G. TAYLOR, JR.

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2023 Ernest G. Taylor, Jr. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/20/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0935-5 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0934-8 (e)

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Contents

Forward

Comment by Ernest’s Niece

I Was There…Sometimes I Still Am (June 1967 – February 1970)

Basic Training

Basic Training KP (Kitchen Patrol) Duty

Advance Infantry Training (AIT)

Officer Candidate School

Sick Call

OCS Graduation

Armored Infantry School

Ft. Benning Executive Officer

Panama Jungle Survival School

Vietnam Bound

Reality

Tactics

Air Assaults

Helicopter Rules

Eagle Flights

Resupply

Reinforcement Detail

Threatened Court Martial

Example of Setting a Pattern

Air Strikes

Items We Found In The Jungle

Officer’s Responsibility

Superstition and Imagination

Stalking Ambush

Self-Inflicted Wounds

My War Story

Boot Print

Booby Traps

Armored Personal Carriers

Dog Tags

Vietnamese Teacher

Scooter Incident

C Rations or "C Rats’

Hospital Event

Heat Exhaustion

Ambush

The Worst Day

Sampan

We Killed a Hog

Water Truck

April 3⁰th (on or about?)

Fire Support Bases (returning back to a sort of normal)

Grunt’s Life in General

French Mine Field

Mortar Accident

Donut Dollies

Religious Services

Court Martial

Gung Ho Moment

Souvenirs

Habits

Tay Ninh Operation

Water Drop

Night Relief Force

Intelligence

Chinese Advisor

Night Air Assault

Arc Light

Agent Orange

Night Ambushes

In Country Rest and Recreation

Mine Sweep

Strange Incident

Chinook Helicopter Pick Up

ARVN (Army of Republic of Vietnam)

New Lieutenant

Dau Tieng Fire Support Base

Unpleasant Jobs

Living Standard

Animals in the Jungle

Lai Khe Sniper

Ground Radar Experience

Tunnels

Cemetery Incident

Dennis Warfield

Army Sniper

Butterfly Bombs

Mad Minute

Canine Assistant

Puerto Rican Soldier

Minimal World News/US Press

Walking on the Moon

Battalion Supply Officer

Pay Officer

Dau Tieng Village

Saigon Trip

Dau Tieng Sniper

Bob Hope Show

Zoo Trip

ARVN Troops

Friendly Fire

MARS (Military Assistance Radio Station)

My Chopper Pilot Experience

Lai Khe Visit

My Opinion of Women in the Military

Rest and Recreation (R&R) to Hong Cong

Marital Status

Random Thoughts

President Nixon’s Saigon Visit

Telegrams

Sounds

VC and NVA Weapons

No One Left Behind

Going Home

Postscript

Forward

I HAVE WATCHED MANY specials on TV, read books and magazine articles about the war in Vietnam. They each show how the Washington politicians view the war; the war protesters opinions, the college kids dislike for the war and the draft dodgers refusing to be drafted. Very few, if any, mention the average foot soldier and his challenges. About the only time a foot soldier is mentioned is when they show flag draped coffins returning to the country.

I have tried to document the thoughts and sacrifices of the average foot soldier who served in Vietnam. My initial thoughts were to write a story that would allow the reader to actually experience what these young men endured; however, I changed my mind. I never want anyone to have to experience the Vietnam War.

I hope my story will serve to credit all of these young men who sacrificed so much for our country especially the ones who lost their lives.

I dedicated this story to all my brother grunts. In the book, I affectionally call my fellow soldiers grunts. There are other nick names I use also.

And also, to recognize the sacrifices and worries of family and friends left at home.

Comment by Ernest’s Niece

I AM ERNEST’S NIECE and for years I have been begging Ernest to write about his Vietnam experience. It was not until after I read his draft of this book that I realized how much he and other soldiers endured both physically and mentally.

When I was younger, I never really heard Ernest talk about Vietnam. Later, after I studied history and wars in college, I started asking him about Vietnam. I was fascinated by all his stories and his compassion, comradery, and the tremendous responsibility he felt for not only those he commanded, but all the soldiers.

It is important for the younger generations to know about this war. The soldiers were in jungle combat for the first time without the benefit of all the technology we have today.

Although I was too young to realize what Ernest and the other soldiers endured over there fighting Communism, I have watched many shows, movies, and documentaries about Vietnam. In these videos I saw clips of actual combat, and then the many protests in America. It must have been difficult for the men to be risking their lives every day and knowing many Americans were protesting the war at home.

Most of all want to thank my uncle and all those who served in Vietnam.

I Was There…Sometimes I Still Am (June 1967 – February 1970)

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SUZANNE, MY FAVORITE NIECE requested that I write about my experiences in the service. I realize this will not become a Pulitzer Prize piece but thought I would document my time. It was, however, a most challenging period of my life which most will never understand. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of my time in Vietnam. I did not participate in any major battles and my service will never be documented on some historical review; however, I am proud of my service and at the same time bitter of the indifference and even down right disdain the American people showed me and my fellow soldiers during this period and especially when we returned.

I graduated from SFA in January 1967 and the draft was in full swing during this period. I see now that graduations are a big deal with great celebration; however, not so when I graduated. The conversations were quite subdued. The males discussed the draft, what counts as a deferment etc. The women were concerned that their boyfriends or husbands might be drafted. Rumors flew around that one was exempt from the draft if one was a teacher, a farmer, a husband, or father. No one really knew, but the local draft boards changed exemptions routinely. I never knew how they decided how many men to call up. Maybe from the National Selective Service.

I enrolled in graduate school, but then the draft dropped the exemptions for graduate students. I had applied to dental school, but it did not start until the fall of 1967, so I was exposed to the draft until the dental school semester started. This time was prior to the draft lottery which was established in late 1969 because of complaints that only the poor people were drafted. At age 23 was called to take a draft physical within the month and could see that the draft notice was not far behind.

I took the Greyhound bus to Houston for my draft physical. It was a joke. They just made sure one had both arms and legs, but very little actual physical examination. I spent the night in a hotel and came home on the same bus. Needless to say, I passed the physical.

I talked to several recruiters, including the Air Force, the Navy, and the US Army. The draft was rapidly closing in on me, so I had some choices to make. The Air Force and Navy dragged their feet. The Navy gave me a test of sorts. It was just questions about common sense. The Navy recruiter told me that I failed the test. I told him that was impossible, and he assured me that there were even college graduates that failed. As a side note after I was in Army basic training, I got a letter from the Navy recruiter that explained that he had used the wrong key to grade my paper and that I had indeed passed the test. I never answered him.

I did not want to be drafted and become a foot soldier, so I joined the Army with the guarantee that they would send me to Officer candidate school and be assigned to the Chemical Corp. This promise will be discussed in more detail later in the dissertation.

I was inducted into the Army on June 2, 1967, in Houston. I found it strange that they actually had a swearing in ceremony where one pledged to defend the constitution and defend the country from enemies both foreign and domestic. I thought, Domestic?

I was given a plane ticket to Philadelphia and a ticket for a limousine to Ft. Dix, New Jersey. I had never flown before and left Houston Hobby at about 5 PM that same day. I arrived in Philadelphia expecting a stretch limo to take me to the post. Instead, there was a beat-up taxi that was crammed six new inductees. I arrived at the post around midnight. I went into the office that was open and was given a blanket and pillow with the instructions to go to a certain building and find a bed. I entered a barracks that was totally dark but could hear men snoring. I felt my way to each bulk until I found an empty one and crawled in.

The next morning, there was a loudspeaker throughout the area which announced instructions. For example, Building number X is to line up for breakfast. For the next six days, we just sat around waiting to be assigned a basic training company. We had to send our civilian clothes home or throw them away. Most of the inductees wore old jeans and T shirts and they just threw them in the dumpster. My mother had insisted that I dress up so I wore slacks and a dress shirt. I had a suitcase with several changes of nice clothes. I had to load my suitcase on a truck that was taking them to the bus station where it would be shipped COD back to Lufkin. I have no idea how much it cost, but suspect that it cost more than the clothes were worth.

This was back in the day when guys wore long hair. Part of our indoctrination was getting a burr hair cut. Since I had little hair on the top, it did not bother me to get a burr hair cut, but some of the guys wailed and moaned about having to cut their hair. The Army barbers took great pleasure in cutting recruits hair. He would ask what style cut they wanted. Several of the recruits would explain their desired hair style. Everyone got the same buzz haircut despite of whether you wanted it or not.

We also had to get immunized. We would line up and the medics would give us shots in each arm. One of them was a gun of sorts that literally blew the medicine through the skin. There were several guys that fainted. The shots hurt, but I managed to get through it. I have no idea of what immunizations we were given. We were never told.

Initially, the only uniform we were given was a field jacket. We had to wear the jacket everywhere we went. Remember, it was in early June in New Jersey and it got hot during the day. Still we had to wear the jacket every time we walked out of the barracks.

Basic Training

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FINALLY, I WAS ASSIGNED to a training company in Ft. Dix, New Jersey and they loaded us into an Army truck for the trip to our permanent basic training barracks. The barracks were relatively new brick buildings. I was assigned to the third floor, so we had to climb stairs numerous times during the day.

We were issued uniforms and boots. We lined up and walked through a serving line such as you see at Luby’s Cafeteria. The first guy asked what size pants you wore. He handed you this size. The next guy asked what size shirt and passed them to you. We went all down the line to get shirts, pants, T shirts, socks etc.

Most of the training consisted of marching in step and learning military customs. We had to learn ranks and uniform insignias. God forbid if one passed an Officer without saluting. That was a major error especially when one is in basic training.

There was a lot of physical training (PT) which I hated. Every morning we would run a mile in boots before breakfast. Afterwards we would do calicentics (called PT or physical training) to get us into shape which it did. I lost about 20 pounds. We also had an obstacle course that was fun to run. We had to climb over, under and through different types of barriers. We also had to climb over a tall wall with ropes, which a lot of men had trouble climbing. I did not.

It seemed that there was a fixation with bayonets. We had numerous bayonet drills and lots of practice stabbing dummies.

We usually had Sundays off. Most of the guys went to some type of religious service. There were three basic choices, Jewish, Catholic and Protestant. Sunday was a time to wash clothes, write letters etc. There was a set of washing machines and dryers in the barracks for our use. In basic training, we did not have to iron our clothes so looking back on it, we probably looked pretty shabby.

There was a single pay phone in the building. Usually, I would call my parents (collect of course) and talk for a few minutes because there was always someone wanting to use the phone next. I usually tried to call them on Sunday evening.

A couple of times we had to pull guard duty at night. One night, I was assigned to guard the dispersing building (the post bank) that was an old wooden structure. They issued me a rifle, but no ammunition. They locked me in the hallway, and I was supposed to walk the hallway for two hours. I thought at the time, if this building caught on fire, how would I get out? I remember I walked the post for about a half hour and finally dawned on me that there was no other person around, so I sat down the rest of the night. The hardest part was staying awake. I made it, but it was a long night.

One Saturday afternoon, the company was loaded on trucks with our rifles and bayonets. Strange, I thought. They carried us to a school for mentally disabled children. We got off the trucks and marched into a football field where there were patients in the