Fatal Distractions

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All things human were often fatal in Vietnam. Warriors are pictured as cold, calculated, aloof  and somehow less than human. Uniforms add much to the effect of dehumanization. If you see an antisocial veteran…give him a break. They often have a hard time returning mainstream.

We take so many activities for granted in peacetime. The common activities of life could kill you in the combat zone. Sleeping, eating, going to the bathroom, or hanging out with friends were all distractions. Most wartime survivors proved to be persistently diligent. Great habits increase your chances; bad habits proved fatal distractions.

My R&R signaled a turning point. I had less than 100 days upon return. The 365 day clock had turned deeply into home stretch. I was short…but I didn’t dare count. Thinking of returning home was in itself a distraction. My job was to intentionally survive…one day at a time. Short Timers worried too much and lost their flexibility. I had consciously put away most distractions.

Women and children reminded us of the softer side of life. Children particularly gave us thoughts of home. Anti-war protesters liked to call us Baby Killers. This was so removed from the truth. An American soldier was far more apt to be killed by giving the benefit of the doubt. Our enemies knew this and used this trait against us. Civilians got caught in crossfires. The enemy used innocence (both ours and their victims) to kill us.

Smoking seemed most universal. A smoke is a quick stress relief. The Sarge said, “Smoke em if you’ve got em!” The times have now certainly changed. Smoking acceptably distressed soldiers then… life and death situations proved a constant pressure. Cigarettes came with rations and full cartoons were issued periodically during resupply. Yet, a smoke at night could give your position away for a mile. I used them as currency; they were far too valuable to smoke. However, I was leery that someone might cheat in the stillness of the night. Most men were disciplined…but someone always cheated.

My dream was to become educated. High school dropouts held few opportunities. I came into the army with strong reading comprehension. I tried to build upon that in the field. I carried James Michener’s Hawaii in my ruck for the longest time. I kept it within reach for the rare downtimes. Michener writes tomes. My book got wet in the monsoon rain and expanded twice its normal size. That didn’t discourage me. One day I heard the rain falling through the leaves…but I didn’t get wet. I read through the early rain, waiting to put the book up at the last minute. My curiosity finally got the best of me. I arose to discover an ongoing firefight far below me. What I heard was spent bullets falling through the leaves. After quick deliberations…I left James Michener  in the bush. My dream could wait a few more months.

Upon returning to the States, I  habitually informed everyone in the house,  “I’m going to the bathroom.” I drove them nuts. In Vietnam, everyone needed to know exactly where you were…particularly for nature’s acts. I hid on the other side of the tree as a new man. I hid in plain sight (this side of the tree) as a true vet. If shots are fired, anything that moves is fair game. Nobody looks at private acts, but the enemy. An American had to always look like an American, so that only one army shot at you!

Both sides probed for weaknesses. Clusters of men were easy targets. About ten feet from any one man was my ideal of being close. The exception was sharing a foxhole. Distance keeps you from distracting chatter. It’s hard to hear when you are making noise.

Cooking fires were modestly maintained. We extinguished fires before dark. Eating cold food could keep you alive at night. Our C-rations were packed in grease. If you are truly hungry…they taste pretty good cold. Our enemies often followed us for discarded C-rations. They were vitally nutritious.  Sometimes we would fain movement to catch the scavengers. The enemy also succumbed to fatal distractions.

A full night’s sleep was the exception to the rule. We lived tired. We fought tired. At least a third of the unit remained awake at all times. We had a saying, ‘You might wake up with your throat cut.’ Most perimeter breaches were due to sleeping guards. Discipline kept you, and the men who trusted you…alive.

Currahees… a state of  hyper-vigilance remains a hard habit to break.