An Unusual Weekend in 1966

Vietnam, Day Number 402, this Friday Morning came quite early.  The VC had spent the night trying to sink our ferry.  The aluminum pontoons are honeycombed, so we sat on the ledge of the bank firing occasional rounds at the few signs of water movement.  As dawn broke we found no bodies, though the current may have swept them away.  The ferry was only slightly scathed by the interlopers with a few puncture wounds.

Being the radio operator for the site, I had my own bunker; there was just enough room for a cot and my radio equipment.  Once full light flooded the area, I catnapped against the sandbags with the military radio loudspeaker propped up so I'd be available to hear any calls.
About 9 a.m. a jeep slid to a stop a few feet from my door: "Traupmann, get your shit, you're goin' home"  yelled the driver.

Home base was just west of  Da Nang, there I had to get paperwork signed off by all the various groups to be released.  My last stop was Sgt. Ned,  our company drunk and my immediate superior. Sgt Ned bounced from Sgt to PFC and back to Sgt frequently over the last year.  He and I were the last of the original team that came to Vietnam, so he was in charge.  To make our relationship more clear, I was in our most dangerous assignment; not exactly what tradition posed for those on the short list for going home.  So Sgt. Ned comes up with: "Hey Traupmann, why don't you stay another year.  I could use you.  There's a lot of money to be made with the combat pay." 
"What?  you didn't get me killed, so you want me to stay another year so you can?  Hell NO!"  He wasn't going to sign the paperwork, so I turned to leave.  He called me back signed quickly and I hope he didn't survive the attacks that followed.

As I dropped off the paperwork at the Captain's Tent, the same jeep driver was ready to take me to the Da Nang Airport.  Everything I owned was in half a duffel bag.  I registered at the desk, and sat on my bag in the corner.  As the plane loaded, we each had numbers.  I was second last.  As I approached the plane's stairs a 2nd Lieutenant approached and said he was taking my place.  Normally an enlisted man would step aside, but the next flight was the next day, and concrete didn't seem like a cozy bed.  "Sir, according to Marine Corps Tradition enlisted eat first, and go home first"
"He's right Lieutenant, step aside" said a bird Colonel.  I was on the plane to Okinawa.
We landed very late that night, hopped the waiting bus and were off to barracks.  First thing in the morning we were shown a very large storehouse with miles of duffel bags,  our chit we were to save had been lost by most, but having an unusual name made mine easy to find in short order.  We lugged these back to the barracks and were given liberty cards for the night.
The bus to the town outside base was packed.  Upon arrival in town, I walked down the street and found a very small quiet bar.  I ordered a boilermaker (bear and a shot) and remember little of the rest except a barkeep that reminded me of my childhood girlfriend, with a Japanese touch, and the MPs dragging me into my barracks.  The next plane ride was so early, I hardly know how I got aboard.  I do remember it was a commercial plane with very pretty, friendly stewardesses. Our first stop was Hawaii, where we were allowed to wander the airport for the 3 hour layover.  I bought 3 flexible monkeys for my mom; they hung in here living room for the rest of her life.
The next ride was another commercial plane with much less friendly stewardesses.  We landed at MCAD El Toro, CA.  A couple of us talked one of the guys from CA to have his dad drive us up to LAX. 
There, I caught a plane to Chicago, then a short hop to Milwaukee.  It was Sunday afternoon, and chicken was for dinner. 

Friday morning firefight to home Sunday for dinner... If you are trying to do the math, remember to add a day as we flew over the Date Line. 

Here are more pictures of this Vietnam area