One of the more unfortunate things relating to the, so called Police Action; I had lost all my pictures, year book, and other related memorabilia, in one of my many moves after getting out. Not all my long term memories have diminished,
So I'll try, to the best of my ability, stir up those recollections.
I was assigned to Headquarters, Headquarter Company, 60th Ordinance Group, company clerk (Radar type). I started my basic training at Fort Knox on April Fools Day 1964. The period just prior to all the mass protests. Those of us who were drafted during that early period went with a sense that we were doing something good, patriotic and would be combating those 'evil doers" The Communists' (yeah, right). I was also privey to classified material and information relating to our posts departure date to Vietnam. Well, being a sensitive and somewhat ignorant on the sensitivity of the knowledge that I possessed, my compassion toward my fellow man, I passed on this information of our departure date, to some key people in our unit, knowing they would need these few days notice, it would help them make plans for their families. Word got back to my CO and I was called in on the preverbial carpet.
"Vitale, stand at ease and sit down and listen. You are facing some very serious charges, compromising your position as S-2 NCO, revealing Top Secret information, a trip to Leonard Wood, a ten thousand dollar fine and a dishonorable discharge. What do you have to say for yourself?"
I'll never forget that moment. I tried to defend my actions by referring to a news article which contained that information relating to movement of troops from Fort Lee Virginia and their date of departure, which I showed my CO. After he heard my account and the newspaper article, the severity of my situation had diminished. I was admonished and read the riot act and told that no further action will be taken. Phew. This was April or may of 1965 and we were on our way.
We were up at 2:00 a.m., dressed, ate breakfast, and proceeded to load up everything that wasn't nailed down. We had a convoy and travelled from Fort Lee Virginia to the coast of California. I believe Oakland. Up to this point it was like the great adventure; right out of Argosy or one of those soldier of fortune magazines. The USO was there handing out coffee, doughnuts and hugs. So romantic--right out of a novel. I grabbed my duffle bag, rifle (weapon), accompanied the safe which was full of classified documents and proceeded up the gang plank. Reality still hadn't sunk in. The ship was the USS Gordon a Merchant Marine vessel. My position afforded me accommodations in the forward of the ship along with seven other S-2 NCO's. We even had 45 automatics strapped to our hips. Just like in the movies. I'm not sure, but I think there were approximately 32 or 35 hundred troupes on board. Again not realizing our fate we enjoyed the ride. Eating was a trip, always trying to keep your food in front of you while the ship rock and rolled. We played cards on deck during the daylight light hours and during the evening we would take out our portable battery radios and ground them to mast or some part of the ship and listen to the radio, I believe it was WJR, easy listening (pillow talk radio). Also during the day we'd watch the flying fish or porpous off the bow while the ship would rise and fall while the horizon disappeared for what seemed like an eternity. We passed the international date line and performed some sort of traditional activity relating to Davey Jones or something like that. We transferred ships at Danang and was able to go to shore for a couple of hours while the ships were off loaded. You felt like Hemingway...little thatch hooch's with names like The Chicago Bar, or The Lone Star Bar etc....We boarded up on a Naval vessel and the whole mood started to change. The protocols were different, more intense. Details were more important and detail to your MOS. We were on our way to Cam Ranh Bay to off load more ordinance and quench our thirst at the thatched bars that picketed the shoreline. We were chided, teased, by the military who were based there,
"hey look a the croot's in their nicely starched duds, want us to wipe your ass for you, want your mommy?”
Some how those feelings that we were experiencing 20 days earlier were disappearing. Off in the distance you could feel and hear 105's and mortar going off. All of a sudden the beer didn't taste so good, the shoreline wasn't a sandy beach and you were no longer John Wayne touting your 45 on the beaches of Iwo Jima. We loaded up again and proceeded down the coast to Saigon. As we proceeded to off load the ship and our equipment. You looked around and the machine gun posts strategically place all around you, orders being shouted like the smash of an anvil chorus, you were dropping pieces of your equipment, couldn't keep in step, your whole sense of rhythm and balance was being short circuted. You loaded up on your vehicles and were ordered to put a clip in your weapon. You fumbled and finaly got the clip in. You didn't perspire and more, you were sweating now and smelling every bit of that persperation. Laughs and conversation had subsided and replaced by the sound of heavy machinery rumbling down Highway 1. We were on our way to Benhoa (later named,Long Bin Junction). The severity of what was taking place was realy setting in. I was scared and didn't know from what.
Jan, I'm going to take a break. You know what I mean..flashbacks etal. Going to take a laugh break; lotsa laughs. Later buddy.
Glad you came back, here's a hug for ya.
Joe V.
Thank you for passing along the stories of our brave and honorable comrades in arms. Like the majority of us, we did not return with the usual pomp and circumstance that usually accompanies returning soldiers. There were only two instances, on my return, that was accompanied with a "thank you" and "welcome home". The first was the airport in Oakland, CA. I had finished with our, so called debriefing", (a physical and directions to the transportation to the airport). With my duffel bag in hand I loaded on the bus and shared stories with other G.I.s...like were ya from, what are you going to do when you get home etc... Finlay got to the airport, got off the bus and went inside. I was met with heads turning the opposite wya of my direction. As I proceded down the long hallway a group of four individuals were walking towards me, directly in my path; the four individuals were members of "Hell's Angels". My life started flashing through my mind at an alarming pace. I thought about the fact that I just spent one horendeous year with my life on the line in Nam and that I was back in the U.S., just hours from being transportated home, I was to encounter friendly forces (Hells Angels) just to get my ass kicked. They were starring me down as we approached each other and feelings of being back Nam camed flooding back. I started to move out oftheir way when all of a sudden they opened their arms, grabbed me and hugged me, and said Welcome Home.
Can you imagine, 2 giant bikers wearing their leather and colors, accompanied with their ladies, also very impressive, welcoming a returning vet, from Viet Nam, home. I was overwhelmed, confused, and of course grateful. They were the only people, on my journey home, that gave me such a welcome. They bought me a drink in the lounge and sat with me till I boarded the plane for Detroit. When I arrived at Metro I caught the shuttle to Detroit. At the terminal in Detroit there was No Welcom Home, no free drinks at the bar, nothing...there were a few comments such as, Hey You, baby killer. Many of us had the simular welcoming home. I caught the bus that would take me as far as Eight Mile. I dragged my duffel bag off the bus and started hitchhiking, while waiting for the bus to come by. A long story short...I walked all the way to Twelve Mile and to my home. No one would even pick me up. I should have taken off my uniform. I would have gotten a ride in an instant. Anyway, my family did not expect me to arrive until the next day. When I got within a couple houses of my home, I saw this large sign on the front lawn, all decorated around the edges, proclaiming "Welcome Home Joe" and Merry Christmas". (Got home March 31st, 1966). I snuck around the b ack of the house and came through the back door. Mom was at the kitchen stove cooking pasta and other wonderful goodies, and when she saw me standing there in the middle of the kitchen, she dropped her favorite spoon to the floor, dripping with tomato sauce and all, cried out "Joe, your home?"...All my famly was there and came running from the living room, and gave the second and best welcom home I guy could ever get. That feeling will never leave me, as I"m sure other returning Vets share the same or simular return.
Again, Jan, sorry for running on like this. It seems that when there is an ear that realy listens and understands where you're coming from, you just can't stop. Have a great day and thanks for doing this. Many of us may of thought about doing something like this, you have and thank you.
Joe
NOTE: Joe has a really great funny story about his time seeing Joey Hetherton (?) on stage and the Bob Hope show in Tan Son Nhut or Bien Hoa in December 1965. So stay tuned for further updates.
No comments:
Post a Comment