Late June, 1965: Following Marine Corps Boot Camp, and San Diego Comm School, I received orders to Camp Pendleton; there I was assigned to an Engineering Battalion. Within days we were boarding a ship in San Diego. As my new fellow Marines and I leaned over the rail to wave at the crowd below, we watched our commanding officer shook hands with his wife. Not exactly the John Wayne style, but we were off.
The ship was not a troop carrier, but an LSD, a ship to hold earth-moving, road-grading, and bridge building equipment. Half of all our Battalion possessed in this open hull.
After a few days at sea, a routine of sleeping much of the day away set in. There were two ships in our convoy, headed to somewhere; we'd not been told. Each day the temperature got cooler, until snow was flying. There were few places inside the ship Marines were welcome, other than quarters, which had bunks eight high, or about one hundred and twenty in a ten by eighteen foot room. The numerous engine fires, and general quarters were stiffling, especially when a third of the guys lit up.
One rather cool day, all Marines were called to formation in the open deck below. Struggling to lift a bull horn, our commander announced we were headed to Vietnam to build roads and bridges for the offensive that has just started.
Soon the days aboard ship got a bit more organized, as we tested radios, and equipment. The weather warmed to where we were stowing our jackets as pillows, and pulling our shirts out whenever possible. Many of us started sleeping on deck.
One day a fishing vessel appeared on the horizon. Within minutes there were three F-4 Phantom jets streaking over our ship towards the fishing vessel. Very quickly, our small convoy was again alone on the sea. One of the sailors said we were approaching Japanese waters, and that the fishing vessel was a Soviet trawler; it had been trailing us for some days.
Other than a refueling ship, we saw no other ship or land until we approached Da Nang Harbor, forty-five days into the journey. The harbor was dotted with what seemed like hundreds of Navy ships. Within the hour, World War II landing craft slid up to the back of our ship which had it's tail down, and we walked aboard with full packs, radios, ammo and rifles. As we pulled back from the ship, we hunkered down, fully expecting to hit the beach.
Instead, we were brought to a dock in Da Nang. We posted men on the edges of the area and waited for the rest of our battalion to be disembarked.
An officer called us to form up. As good Marines, we loaded up our packs, slung our rifles over our shoulders and got into formation. The Captain began to explain that we were to be settled in an area about 10 miles out of town, and we were to be wary of all Vietnamese. VC had infiltrated the area, and we were quite vulnerable upon first arrival, so set up a perimeter and be watchful. Each platoon was designated a particular area.
From behind the warehouse came a series of odd looking tractor-trailer trucks. The tractor was a WWII looking cab with flip forward front windows, and square doors, painted that marvelous military green. But the trailers looked like prisoner transports: only one side door and barred windows on both sides. If the VC attacked us in this damn thing, we couldn't get out of it, or raise our arms to fire. Imagine sardines firing from inside a can..
The trip out of town to the site was fortunately uneventful. We were let off in a large flat area, with rice paddies all around. Sgt. Ned had already procured a snootful, and was slurring his orders, but we quickly understood that we were to set up our portion of the perimeter to the east. We climbed into a large round area with an embankment around; we later found out to be a gravesite. Our view was over tall grass, a rice paddy and the road we'd arrived on. Beyond that was a tree-line and more rice paddies and far off in the distance a small Vietnamese village.
Once the fear stage had passed, we started to take turns on guard. Suddenly, "Hey, somethings moving" startled us all to lock and load as we flop onto the embankment. One of the guys yelled "who goes there" and we searched in vain for movement. Then more reeds moved. "Hold it, hold it, you don't know what it is, it could be one of those sacred cows or something" Shortly, a boy appeared, then another with their arms high in the air. Smiling and in almost perfect English the older boy said "You buy Coke?"
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