Chapter 34: Mail Call

Dear Marshall,

Colonel Robinson recommended I be decorated again,

My chopper’s engine was disabled by gunfire while I was loading wounded on the ground. I ordered the patients to be quickly offloaded again, and using the final moments of running left in the engine, skidded my chopper away from the LZ and away from the people grouped at the LZ. As soon as I could, I shut the engine down before it shut itself down permanently and caught fire. It didn’t catch fire.

Laying prone on the floor, I played opossum and waited for a lull in the shooting. It never did feel safe enough to move all night. I was too scared to show myself and invite unwanted attention. The enemy stopped wasting bullets on my already downed chopper. I figured they would. Because I figure they hope to capture it intact. All night I remained vigilant, in case somebody tried to sneak up and set it afire. All I had was my pistol but it wasn’t needed. I was ignored all night long.

First thing in the morning, soon as it started getting light, I called for assistance on my radio. Two hours later, a Sikorsky CH-37 Mojave heavy lift chopper arrived and lowered slings. I connected the shackles to the four corners of my landing skids in a hurry, because the VC are shooting at me again. I expected they would. The Sikorsky hoisted me into the air and flew me with my wounded bird back to base. Now, I’m supposed to be some kind of a hero because I spent all night shitting and pissing in my pants, too petrified to move?

It’s ridiculous and unnerving! If the Colonel continues to reward my stupidity, might I actually one day learn to be stupid, in a trained response to the rewards? Like training a Pavlovian dog to salivate when you blow a whistle, by whistling when you feed him? Undeserved decorations are embarrassing to wear! I don’t want them. Colonel insists. What Colonel wants, Colonel gets. Like you!

Good news is, my chopper is repairable and being overhauled completely. She’s a good ship, and I’m glad she isn’t lost.

Meanwhile, Colonel thinks I have fighting spirit because I ‘DEFENDED’ my ship all night single handed. I stayed because it seemed the safest place to be. Colonel is desperate for a hero in his command. He has many if he’d only see them! I’m not one of them.

Don’t worry I might be losing my mind, it took a hike on day one, when I noticed Stanley Zgilzewski’s lower face matted with his blood and knew instantly he was dead, shot through the head. My mind and sensibilities have been AWOl ever since then.

The newer term invented just in time for Vietnam, UA. Unauthorized Absence, has replaced AWOl in official use but not in common use with the men. We still say AWOL. Screw official language dictates. Freedom of speech rules!

The only reason I can conclude why it is thought necessary to change Absent Without Leave, AWOL, to Unauthorized Absence, UA, is they must be planning to repurpose AWOL as something involving Air Warrant Officer’s Liability. The abundance of Warrant Officer Huey Pilots they’re creating is a staggering number. They must be anticipating losing a bunch of us.

One of the things Basic Training tried to drill in to us, was not to worry about dying. First day in Reception Company, our Drill Instructors introduced themselves, with short inspiring speeches.

One introductory inspirational speech sticks permanently in my head.

“Every year several recruits die during training. In accidents or more often because they failed to obey safety instructions like keep their heads down. It is not murder and not illegal for us to kill you during your training. However, be not alarmed. We will not EAT you!”

Oh thank gawd for that! I feel so relieved I’m not about to be eaten!

I’m serious. Remember when you were a little kid, what terrified you? Wasn’t dying, none of us had concepts of dying yet. We all were terrified of being eaten up, by the monster under the bed, or the bear outside the window. Think and remember. You’ll agree and understand why I felt so relieved to put that childish fear behind me.

Some men are more hardheaded than others. I’m one and while I’m glad I won’t be eaten, I feel certain I’m going to die in Vietnam. That is not okay with me. I have plans if I survive, which I seriously doubt I will.