- Joined
- Mar 20, 2004
- Messages
- 270
- Points
- 53
A Day In The Life......
A typical day started before daylight. We'd be up, silently preparing for the day's hump. As the day lightened up, squad-sized clearing patrols would fan out from the laager site looking for any signs that Charlie had been in the area. If there had been any out, the listening posts would be brought in. Trip flares and claymores would be gathered up.
Once the LPs and clearing patrols were safely back in the perimeter, we'd clean up the area. Fighting holes were filled in, garbage was buried, the whole place was policed of any items that might benefit the enemy. Usually the unit commander had briefed the platoon leaders the night before on the next day's objective. The CO specified the route, pace, and the next laager site.
We'd head out. The platoons rotated the point position each day. Within the platoons the squads rotated the point, also. Most often, because of the thick jungle, bamboo thickets, or elephant grass, it was necessary to cut a path through the foliage. Each of us carried a machete to hack through this stuff. In the heat and humidity few guy could last on point for more than an hour or two, then a new squad would move forward to continue hacking.
The hump would continue as we forced our way to the day's objective. Most of a grunt's life is pretty boring. Rarely did we see signs of the enemy. If contact was made, it was usually initiated by the enemy. A typical contact scenario would be a sudden burst of fire. Often there would be cries of pain or calls for a medic by those hit by the initial firing. The rest of us had hit the dirt and was firing off magazines towards where we thought their positions were.
After several minutes of firing, we'd cease fire. All would be quiet and the smell of cordite would hang in the air. You'd take a personal inventory of yourself. Good, I wasn't hit! Clearing patrols would cautiously leave the perimeter, seeking Charlie. Search And Destroy. A medevac chopper would be called in for the casualties. By the time an LZ had been cut out of the jungle, the patrols would be back. Most of the time it would be the same report: "No sign of Charlie, sir." The chopper came in, picked up the casualties, and departed. We'd organize back into our squads and continue the hump. We'd make it to our objective, set everything up like we did the night before, and do it all over again the next day.
We'd stay out for weeks at a time; sometimes MANY weeks at a time. Rarely did we get a cold beer [usually a warm Black Label], a warm shower, 3 hot meals in a row, a candy bar, or a newspaper. I've gone for as long as 2 weeks without mail. We'd wear the same fatigues for weeks at a time, sweat stained and blood stained [usually someone else's]. Our boots would often be rotting off of our feet before a supply chopper would bring us somemore. When fresh fatigues were choppered out to us, the platoon sergeants would divvy them up to the guys that needed them the most.
So that's a thumbnail description of a day in the life of a 101 Trooper in 1966/67. Of course there were variations. Different terrain; bigger, longer battles; ambushes set up [more often than not, nobody showed up]; patrolling villes; etc.. And that's how I spent my Southeast Asian vacation.
A typical day started before daylight. We'd be up, silently preparing for the day's hump. As the day lightened up, squad-sized clearing patrols would fan out from the laager site looking for any signs that Charlie had been in the area. If there had been any out, the listening posts would be brought in. Trip flares and claymores would be gathered up.
Once the LPs and clearing patrols were safely back in the perimeter, we'd clean up the area. Fighting holes were filled in, garbage was buried, the whole place was policed of any items that might benefit the enemy. Usually the unit commander had briefed the platoon leaders the night before on the next day's objective. The CO specified the route, pace, and the next laager site.
We'd head out. The platoons rotated the point position each day. Within the platoons the squads rotated the point, also. Most often, because of the thick jungle, bamboo thickets, or elephant grass, it was necessary to cut a path through the foliage. Each of us carried a machete to hack through this stuff. In the heat and humidity few guy could last on point for more than an hour or two, then a new squad would move forward to continue hacking.
The hump would continue as we forced our way to the day's objective. Most of a grunt's life is pretty boring. Rarely did we see signs of the enemy. If contact was made, it was usually initiated by the enemy. A typical contact scenario would be a sudden burst of fire. Often there would be cries of pain or calls for a medic by those hit by the initial firing. The rest of us had hit the dirt and was firing off magazines towards where we thought their positions were.
After several minutes of firing, we'd cease fire. All would be quiet and the smell of cordite would hang in the air. You'd take a personal inventory of yourself. Good, I wasn't hit! Clearing patrols would cautiously leave the perimeter, seeking Charlie. Search And Destroy. A medevac chopper would be called in for the casualties. By the time an LZ had been cut out of the jungle, the patrols would be back. Most of the time it would be the same report: "No sign of Charlie, sir." The chopper came in, picked up the casualties, and departed. We'd organize back into our squads and continue the hump. We'd make it to our objective, set everything up like we did the night before, and do it all over again the next day.
We'd stay out for weeks at a time; sometimes MANY weeks at a time. Rarely did we get a cold beer [usually a warm Black Label], a warm shower, 3 hot meals in a row, a candy bar, or a newspaper. I've gone for as long as 2 weeks without mail. We'd wear the same fatigues for weeks at a time, sweat stained and blood stained [usually someone else's]. Our boots would often be rotting off of our feet before a supply chopper would bring us somemore. When fresh fatigues were choppered out to us, the platoon sergeants would divvy them up to the guys that needed them the most.
So that's a thumbnail description of a day in the life of a 101 Trooper in 1966/67. Of course there were variations. Different terrain; bigger, longer battles; ambushes set up [more often than not, nobody showed up]; patrolling villes; etc.. And that's how I spent my Southeast Asian vacation.
