Uncle Sam Ain't Released Me Yet...Memoirs of a REMF, Chapter 30, The Ups and Downs of the Job, Part II....

Uncle Sam

Ain’t Released Me Yet

Memoirs of a REMF

Copyright© 2016 by Robert B. Martin, IV

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal. I have attempted to recreate events, locales, and conversations from my memories of them.

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Chapter 30

The Ups and Downs of the Job

“A man can only do what he can do.” ..........Albert Schweitzer

Part II

Even with the various perks that came with my job, I would eventually come to hate it with a passion. It was boring because of its repetitive nature and stressful due to the “Pentagon-Perfect” typing that was required. I was also a little ashamed, or maybe just embarrassed, to tell people that I was “merely” a clerk (I still am). There was no glory in being a clerk. It was a job in which you were overworked and underappreciated, and it would be a long thirteen months. I was also afraid someone might think I was trying to “get out of something,” when in reality, I had gone to Vietnam expecting assignment to an artillery battery somewhere out in the boonies. It wasn’t my decision to become a clerk.

The personnel officer had been particularly pleased that I could type because there were so many documents that had to be typed each day. After all, this was the U.S. Army, which may move on its stomach, but it ran on paper. The most important document to be prepared each and every day of the year was the Morning Report, DA Form-1. You know it’s an important form when it is form number one. It was a paper version of a daily roll call.

The morning report detailed daily personnel changes and effective dates of the changes in any and all personnel assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Battery. This meant typing the name, rank, and serial number of a little over a hundred individuals every day and listing their status (present for duty, on leave, in hospital, temporary duty, AWOL, in custody, promoted, demoted, KIA, WIA, etc.). The 1SG checked it over, signed it, and passed it to the BC for his signature before it was submitted up the chain of command. I have no idea where it eventually came to rest.

My working hours were 0700 hours (7:00 AM) to 1700 hours (5:00 PM) Monday through Saturday and 0800 hours (8:00 AM) to 1600 hours (4:00 PM) on Sunday. I was working even later by the end of September, 1969. It was not unusual for me to return to work after evening chow in order to finish the day’s work. It wasn’t a difficult job, but it required perfection seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year. I had to work Christmas Day, New Year’s Day, Easter, and every other holiday of the year because the morning report (DA Form-1) had to be completed every single day of the year and I had no backup. After being promoted to SP5, I did begin to get some time off on some Saturdays and most Sundays AFTER the morning report was prepared. Being a REMF wasn’t all fun and games.

The morning report also had another use. Any time we received in-coming, I used a copy of the latest morning report to account for every person in the battery. After the All Clear sounded, I went from bunker to bunker and checked off every name on the list. Every member of our battery had to be accounted for at all times.

One night, at approximately 0200 hours (2:00 AM), the siren sounded and we ran for the bunkers as we received several in-coming 122mm rockets. Once the all-clear siren sounded, we emerged from the bunkers and I began making my rounds and using that day’s morning report to check off names. All but one member of the battery could be accounted for. Nobody knew where he was or what had happened to him. That meant he could have been AWOL or lying dead or wounded somewhere. It was imperative that he be accounted for before anyone went back to bed. A search of the battalion area was immediately organized and every building, hole, and ditch would be searched until our man was found. Helicopters were brought in when he wasn’t found right away. They circled overhead with their powerful searchlights probing the darkness.

After about two hours, the man was found. He was in the motor pool shed, lying unconscious, but not from enemy fire. Earlier in the evening, he had crawled into a large cardboard box, closed the flaps, plugged his headphones into his boom box, and smoked so much weed in that enclosed space that he eventually passed out. Somehow, the part about the weed didn’t make it to the leadership, and he dodged a bullet.

I remember partying a bit too much one night and waking up for work with a terrible hangover. I was nauseated and my head was throbbing with pain, but I still had to go to the CP and prepare the morning report. After barely completing and delivering it to the Battalion HQ by the 1000 hours (10:00 AM) deadline, I puked my guts out in a ditch in front of Battalion HQ. Then I went back to work.

My typing was done on a manual Royal typewriter. There could be no typos, strike-overs, or erasures. The use of any kind of correction tape or fluid was not permitted. Only perfectly typed documents that were clean and free of smudges could be forwarded up the chain of command. This was not always an easy task in an environment that was sticky, hot and humid, dusty, or rainy and muddy. I kept a towel at my desk so I could wipe my hands before handling any paperwork. Once I completed a document, it was placed in a manila file folder for protection. It was crazy. There I was sitting in that hot, humid, dirty, windy, rainy, muddy stink hole, yet expected to turn out work as though I were in the Pentagon.

Every typed document also required multiple copies. This meant jamming a thick set of typing paper with carbons between each sheet into the manual typewriter. Making three or four copies required a heavy hand (or fingers) on the keyboard to make certain the last carbon copy was dark enough to be read. It was simply not possible to touch-type. This resulted in a crude two-fingered, pounding style of typing in which errors were inevitable.

When a typo was made, I had to rip the paper and carbons from the typewriter, throw them in the wastebasket, place a new set of paper and carbons in the typewriter, and start over. I had always been a fast typist, but prone to frequent errors. This had never been a problem in my previous work as a pharmacist. If an error was made when typing a prescription label, another label could be retyped in a matter of seconds. However, it took much longer to type a full 8 ½” by 11” inch document without an error. It would often require several attempts on my part before getting an error-free document. It was frustrating to say the least.

For distribution throughout the chain of command, some documents required more copies than could be produced with carbon paper in a typewriter.  We had no photo copying machines in those days, so multiple copies were made on a mimeograph machine. A mimeograph machine was a mechanical duplicator that produced copies by pressing ink onto paper through openings cut by a typewriter into a wax stencil. I first had to type an error-free stencil, which I would take to Battalion HQ, where my friend, Gary Simon, would place it on the drum of the mimeograph machine and crank them out. One copy was produced with each revolution of the handle.

The H&HB CP was similar to most offices. I had a field telephone on the wall behind my desk, a desk lamp, clipboards hanging on nails, and a couple of filing cabinets. There was also a transistor radio on a shelf near my desk. It was always turned on and tuned to AFVN (Armed Forces Vietnam Network) during working hours.

I have already mentioned how I was required to dress (as though I worked in the Pentagon). This included regulation haircut, regulation mustache length, starched and pressed fatigues, and shined boots. These requirements were enforced less and less as the months passed. I believe the slackening of rules was because of an overall decrease in morale and respect for authority that I witnessed over the thirteen months of my tour, which I will discuss later.

Continued in Chapter 31, A New Battery Commander…

Uncle Sam Ain't Released Me Yet...Memoirs of a REMF, Chapter 25, My New Home and Job, Part II

Uncle Sam

Ain’t Released Me Yet

Memoirs of a REMF

Copyright© 2016 by Robert B. Martin, IV

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal. I have attempted to recreate events, locales, and conversations from my memories of them.

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Chapter 25

My New Home and Job

“We’re a long, long way from home. Home’s a long, long way from us.”..........Bruce Springsteen

Part II….

Our battalion was fortunate to have a mess hall that normally served three hot meals a day. Very little, if any, fresh foods were available. We had powdered milk, powdered eggs, instant potatoes, and canned meats and vegetables. My favorite breakfast item was SOS (“Shit On a Shingle”), which was browned ground beef in white “sawmill” gravy on a piece of toast. The beverage most days was coffee, powdered milk, Kool Aid, or iced tea (without the ice).

The cooks did the best they could with what they had and it sure beat C-Rations. They tried to do a little better on holidays. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, a large roasted turkey and baked ham were displayed near the entrance to the mess hall for all to see as they entered. I don’t know who eventually got to eat the turkeys and hams, but it wasn’t me or anyone I knew.

Receiving food packages in the mail was always a special treat. Canned ham was one of the best food items to receive in the mail. A lot of ham came squeezed into those cans and it wouldn’t spoil during shipping.

The battalion often held “barbecues” for the men. The mess sergeant set up a large outdoor grill and served steaks, chicken, hamburgers, baked beans, and beer. All of the officers came and mingled with the troops, but they had their own table for eating. Everyone else stood or sat on the ground.

It was a good idea to keep a few boxes of C-Rations squirreled away in case you couldn’t make it to the mess hall or you had the midnight munchies. This wasn’t like home, where you could run to the refrigerator anytime you were hungry (even though some guys did have their own small refrigerators).

Each case of C’s contained twelve meals and four small, simple can openers (called a “P-38”). It was a good idea to keep one of these with you at all times. Most guys kept one on their dog tag chain so it would be handy when needed.

Some of the “entrees” you might find in your box of C’s included:

·      Beef Steak with Potatoes and Gravy

·      Spiced Beef

·      Ham and Eggs

·      Chopped Ham Slices

·      Turkey Loaf

·      Meat Loaf

·      Beans and Wieners

·      Spaghetti and Meatballs

·      Ham and Lima Beans

·      Boned Chicken

·      Chicken and Noodles

Each box of C’s also contained an “accessory packet,” which included a plastic spoon, salt & pepper, instant coffee, sugar, non-dairy creamer, chewing gum, cigarettes (a 4-pack of Winston, Marlboro, Salem, Pall Mall, Camel, Chesterfield, Kent, Lucky Strike, or Kool), matches, and moisture resistant toilet paper (don’t ask).

Some C’s were better than others. Although not everyone agreed on which ones were the best, most guys agreed that Ham and Lima Beans (aka “Ham and muthas”) was the worst. A lot of trading usually went on after C’s were distributed. I didn’t smoke and could use the cigarettes from my C’s for trading.

The small cans of fruit in the C’s were extremely popular. The fruit might be applesauce, fruit cocktail, peaches, or pears. C’s also included snack or dessert items such as crackers and peanut butter or pimento cheese spread, a chocolate bar, fruit cake, pecan roll, or pound cake (my favorite). You might also get lucky and find cocoa beverage powder or jam (apple, berry, grape, mixed fruit, or strawberry).

It was rumored that many of the C’s were left over from World War II. Perhaps that is why they needed a little help in the flavor department. I quickly learned the taste of C’s could be greatly improved with a generous dash of Tabasco Sauce. In fact, Tabasco Sauce was so popular, that it’s maker, the McIlhenny Company, would send a free bottle of sauce plus a cookbook entitled, “THE CHARLIE RATION COOKBOOK or No Food Is Too Good for The Man Up Front” to any service member who wrote and asked for it. Brigadier General Walter S. McIlhenny, son of the second president of McIlhenny Company, was responsible for this idea after he served in Vietnam in 1966.

Some of the recipes contained in the cookbook were for dishes such as the following:

·      Fox Hole Dinner for Two (Turkey and Chicken Poulette)

·      Soup Du Jour

·      Breast of Chicken Under Bullets

·      Battlefield PuPu (Chicken with Peanut Butter Sauce)

·      Tin Can Casserole

·      Combat Zone Burgoo

·      Rice Patty Shrimp

There were three clubs in our battalion. An EM Club (for enlisted men of ranks E-1 through E-4), an NCO Club (for enlisted men E-5 and above), and an O Club (for officers). I don’t believe there was a Senior NCO club (for E-7 and above) in our battalion area. The Army was a big believer in “rank has its privileges” and managed to keep the lower ranks separated from the “lifers.”

The EM Club was where I would go for a beer until I was promoted to SP5 (E-5) and could go to the NCO Club. Even after making SP5 I often went to the EM Club because most of my friends were E-4 or below. The EM Club was probably the only building in the battalion area made of concrete blocks with a concrete floor. If I remember correctly it was small, about half the size of a hooch. A short wooden bar with stools and several tables with chairs furnished the club. There were a couple of “Coca Cola” drink boxes (the kind with a hinged top) behind the bar and a radio that provided music courtesy of AFVN (Armed Forces Vietnam Network).

The O Club was next door to the H&HB CP so I was able to see the club’s interior. It was a hooch that had been converted into a club. The officers made a few alterations in an attempt to make it more comfortable and to allow them, I suppose, to pretend they were somewhere other than Vietnam. They even managed to obtain a window air conditioning unit, which seemed like a foolish idea. Hooches were screen, plywood, and tin with absolutely no insulation. Putting an air conditioner into something like that would be totally useless. But the officers covered the screens with sheets of thick polyethylene and used plywood to add interior walls. They filled the area between the interior and exterior plywood walls with Styrofoam “peanuts” from the crates of artillery shells as insulation. The air conditioner did actually cool the club down by a few degrees, especially if the officer stood directly in front of the unit.

My first day at Camp Eagle was a hot one so that night I visited the EM Club looking forward to a cold beer. I ordered a PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon). The bartender opened one of the Coca Cola boxes, pulled out a can of beer, and sat it in front of me. I picked up the can and was startled and disappointed to discover that it was hot.

“Hey, this beer is hot!” I said.

The bartender then told me the Coca Cola boxes were only used for storing the beer and soft drinks. They weren’t refrigerated and there was no ice available to put in them. Those boxes hadn’t actually chilled anything in years.

One night when I was in the EM club we were visited by a couple of Donut Dollies. Donut Dollies worked for the American Red Cross Supplemental Recreation Overseas program. These were young women with college degrees who spent one year in Vietnam as morale boosters for the GI’s. That night they divided us into two teams to play a quiz show type of game. I remember one of the categories was “Drugs and Disorders,” which seemed kind of strange for a group of GI’s. My team won handily (being a pharmacist didn’t hurt). I believe that was the only time I ever saw a Donut Dollie.

The more common beer brands in the EM club included Hamms, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Budweiser, Carling Black Label, and Falstaff (lite beer had not yet been invented, thank God). I had always been a PBR man so I was happy. Black Label was not considered a very desirable brew, especially when hot and it should come as no surprise to learn that Carling Black Label beer did not sell very well. Therefore, it was often the only beer available before the monthly resupply was received. After the new supply came in the club would hold back the new beer until all of the remaining Black Label had been sold.

Fresca was the soft drink equivalent of Black Label. If you thought hot Black Label beer was awful, you would probably agree that a hot Fresca was the worse tasting soft drink ever made. If any Fresca was still in stock at resupply, it too would have to be sold before any of the new supply of soft drinks was sold.

One of our monthly re-supply shipments of beer and soft drinks was delayed because of a VC attack on the antiquated Vietnamese train used to haul many of our supplies from the port in Danang. Most of the beer and soft drink cases were badly shot up, leaving us only with Fresca and Black Label until the shipment could be replaced. War was hell.

The Vogel Amphitheater was located next to the EM club. It was named after a former Battalion Commander who was KIA prior to my arrival. The amphitheater had a wooden stage with a large back wall painted white on which movies were projected several nights a week. Benches were constructed by nailing boards across the tops of posts that had been driven into the ground leaving a couple of feet of the post above ground. The benches were in rows that formed a semi-circle in front of the stage. The hill provided a natural incline for the benches and gave the amphitheater somewhat of a “theater-type seating” feel.

The amphitheater played host to USO shows that featured bands with go-go dancers performing the latest hits from the US. Most of these groups were Filipino, Korean, Asian, or occasionally, Aussie bands that did a pretty good job covering British and American rock groups.

Continued in Chapter 26, Red Alert!…