Replacement

It was just another typical day somewhere in Vietnam. I remember being bedded down in the foliage, as we awaited the resupply chopper. The rain forest provided some protection from the incessant heat. My water and chow were low. Resupply cycled every three days. Each resupply gave our position away to the enemy. I always had some water left. Drinking  was most important for staying in shape; food absorbed body fluids and became a lesser priority in lean times.

The unmistakable chopper sound dispelled any fear of not being supplied today. I had my canteens at the ready for the refill. All was quiet; all was well.

A young man jumped off the chopper. The helmet liner, the jungle fatigues, the boots were all new. The cherry reported to the Lieutenant for duty. It was then that I spied the brand new medical bag. LT motioned for me. LT said, “Here is your replacement Doc.” I shook the lieutenant’s and the platoon sergeant’s. Their silent expressions, of a job well done, was good enough. There wasn’t enough time to say much to anyone else.

I turned to the new medic. I spoke privately, “Do you need anything?” I knew he was as green as his uniform. He replied, “Not a thing.” I responded, “Good luck.” He would figure it out…eventually. It was time to get my crap and jump on that resupply chopper. We lifted off towards basecamp.

The wind fell full force on my face. I felt like I was flying…half way out of the chopper. I remembered my first flight. I didn’t dare to get within two feet of the door.  I knew that I was now an experienced soldier. But I was taking my experienced butt home.

Currahees…it was strange how abruptly my tour ended. Instead of getting nailed by the enemy, I got hit by the words…you’re being replaced. ‘Thank you Jesus!’