4A Early Boot Camp 1955
I often reminisce about how my childhood experiences helped me to survive the Vietnam War. While I played basketball and baseball like all the kids my age, my greatest enjoyment was when four or five of my best friends would get together and play soldier, conducting “urban warfare” against an unknown enemy. These realistic games could last for up to four hours—rain or shine. If we planned a “major offensive” (building bunkers or trenches) we would meet every day after school until our fortification was completed. We took these games seriously, always trying new tactics to reach our objectives without getting killed by our “enemies.” Our weapons consisted of cap-firing machine guns and pistols, none of which could hurt anybody.
When we were not playing soldier, we were designing and testing “real” weapons of war: weapons which could kill a person (or one of us) if we got careless. We formulated our own version of gunpowder: saltpeter from the drug store, charcoal from the hardware store, and sulfur from wherever we could find it. We were making so much gunpowder that we upped our weapons to include bombs of all sizes. Our most dangerous weapon was a 60 mm mortar made from steel tubing. For safety’s sake, none of the mortar projectiles would explode, and to add extra safety, each weapon we designed had timed fusing to enable us to run like hell for shelter. We never were closer than fifty feet during a firing, but accidents still happened.
As we entered our late teens, we were making bigger and more powerful bombs, which in turn were creating massive bomb craters on our beach. The explosions from our bombs were so loud that the local police departments were beginning to get earthquake calls. We finally quit with the bomb making when one of our team members lost two fingers and filled his chest with shrapnel when the pipe bomb he was assembling blew up due to static electricity. The explosion was so powerful, it blew the garage door off its tracks and blew out the windows. After the accident, we abandoned weapon making and concentrated more on tactics and fortifications. During those five years of our weapons development, we never talked about hurting anyone or destroying property; we were young warriors looking for adventure, plus ways to defend our country.
The weather only enhanced our war games and made them particularly challenging during the winter months with snow on the ground. We wanted to know what “real” soldiers had to endure, and, on some Saturdays, we came home soaking wet or with frozen clothing. Even the cold could not stop us and, unless our fingers started to freeze, we fought on until we captured our objective. We did have one standing rule: Anyone getting frostbitten fingers would automatically end the game.
The bunkers we built were extremely strong; constructed from abandoned railroad ties. Every bunker was unique, but what they all had in common was that they faced the Atlantic Ocean and had a 120-degree field of fire. We even complemented our bunkers by planting native dune grass across the top of them. On one memorable outing, we dug a 30-foot Z-shaped underground trench system in an empty 100 X 200-foot lot, so well camouflaged that on occasion, we could not find the entrance. I thought that I could solve that problem by starting a small fire to clear the weeds from around the entranceway, but suddenly the wind changed, and a strong gust of wind turned the small fire into a raging inferno. We were surrounded by flames, and as our attempts to extinguish the fire were failing, we were forced to seek shelter in our trench system. Within minutes the whole lot was ablaze with thirty-foot flames. Luckily for us, a concerned neighbor called the fire department. Due to the high winds, it took three local fire companies over an hour to extinguish the blaze. While the lot was still smoldering, the police, firefighters, and neighbors formed a line; we were hoping that they wouldn’t find our “bodies.” I could hear the “enemy” (police and fire volunteers) passing over our trap door when suddenly a “traitor” (my best friend’s little brother) started crying. We almost got away with not being caught, but as the police were breaking into the trap door, all I could think about was the punishment that my dad was going to impose on me. We had burned down a whole lot, and almost destroyed two new homes with our antics. Our underground fort had survived the fire, but we were too stupid and young to understand the laws of chemistry and how close to death we nearly came that day. The firefighters were convinced that the fire would have sucked every bit of oxygen out of the tunnel system, but they were wrong; we had proven it by our survival. We never did have a breathing problem due to the tightness of our roof construction and the amount of dirt we had piled on top of the trench system. (Now, if the firefighters had not arrived when they did, I might not be writing this!)
All this play soldiering had taught me firsthand survival skills, but my most important lesson learned was not to rush into an unknown threat. During the Nui Ba Den attack I took one man and started a flanking maneuver around the helicopter pad. All the enemy gunfire was coming from the area near Bunkers 6 and 7. The fastest and most direct route was across the helicopter pad, but taking the direct route, even though faster, would have been suicidal, as the Viet Cong were waiting for us. We kept our movements low and slow, freezing in our tracks whenever a flare would light up the area, then only moving again when darkness returned. The chaotic roar of the firefight and the bullets ricocheting off the rocks often gave us false signals as to the enemy’s exact location. We averaged ten to fifteen feet a minute, always looking and listening, expecting an enemy ambush as we got closer to the destroyed bunkers. This was another tactic I had learned while playing soldier, and was now using in actual combat. In the end, we flanked the enemy Sappers, killing at least three while driving the rest of their team outside our perimeter. My team and I secured the break in the perimeter and completed our mission. Nui Ba Den was secure again.
To this day, I have no doubt that the lessons learned as a youth aided in keeping my men and myself alive in Vietnam.