Jerry Berry, Combat Photographer 3/506th
Our base camp held one great asset…a beach! The only drawback was the means of getting there. The quickest route meandered through the mine field. Doc Mark Jones showed me the trail initially. I know a good deal when I see it; I made at least three trips on my own.
A few air mattresses were usually left in our medical tent. I loved floating in the South China Sea. My home state of Maine is known for both rocky shores and ice cold waters! These were my first tropical shores. My trips were usually short. I never felt like the beach was absolutely secure. Our primary mission was to make it back to the States. It was hard to stay wired 24/7 for 365 days; there had to be an occasional outlet. The beach was mine.
Armed with an air mattress, I embarked upon my first solo jaunt. I questioned myself, ‘did I remember the path through that mine field?’ Actually, it was a well worn path…that didn’t fool anyone. I had the beach pretty much to myself. However, the surf pounded hard that day. Eventually, the strength of the waves proved stronger than my endurance. One last run beckoned me…to catch the perfect wave. I caught a dandy. It left me suspended about two feet over the beach sand. My air mattress flew one way…I flew the other! I landed end over end. It was a blast.
My timing at the beach always proved perfect. If the waves tried to get me the first time, the sea creatures tried to finish me off the second time. At the end of my half mile trek, the water was crowded. There were hundreds of jelly fish in my water! I don’t discourage easy. Making my way out on my trusty air mattress, I defiantly floated among them. Jelly fish have more going on under the water…more than I wanted to personally know. It was difficult making my way out into the deep. The plant like jelly fish have quite the sting. The toxins of several stings could prove quite dangerous.
After about ten minutes…floating became boring in the calm South China Sea waters. The hundreds of jelly fish proved poor conversationalists. My better sense caught up with me. My only salvation was an army issue air mattress. If I sprung a leak…or fell off…I would never make it back to shore. I carefully retraced my way unscathed to shore.
The third solo trip remains a private memory. It was a rare opportunity for a young man coming of age. My Currahee Trail went through the mine field several times, usually with fellow medics. These beach memories were some of my best of 1968 Vietnam.
Currahees…our trails often went through the mine fields. This one was a rare friendly. Do you remember the club at the beach? I have a club house story near the end of the Trail.
