The folks at VA Med Ctr. are still trying to unfold this one. I worked out of an information Office in Cam Ranh Bay as a Spec 5. But mine wasn't the usual "In the Rear With the Gear" job. I was a correspondent for AFRTS, Stars & Stripes, PR guy for USO tours and "Wall of Fame Photog" for visiting brass. Most mornings it was up at o' dark thirty and off to the slick base where I'd catch a chopper somewhere. If it was a longer distance, the airbase was in the same vicinity and I'd hitch a ride on a C-130 or C-123 to wherever I was off to that day.
I basically set my own schedule and the CO (a good-guy Captain) would rubber-stamp it. I had standing travel orders for anywhere in the RVN. This would have been Jan/Feb of '69 and the day started as usual.
Except I cannot for the life of me remember where it happened or where I was going.
We landed, there was a three-truck convoy headed to resupply a forward base and I hitched a ride out. My plan was probably to do some "Hometown Interviews," take a few photos and head back before dark. Each interview would be matched with the cassettes and sent to the soldier's hometown newspaper and radio station. I don't know if any of them ever got played, I just know it got me out of the office and into a fascinating and beautiful country - usually.
I jumped into the second of three Deuce & A Halfs and we were off, followed by a command jeep with a crew of three guys and a radio. This particular spot wasn't all that lovely. It was flat, dusty and wide open. Not the usual lush green of Vietnam - and no cover if there was trouble. Just as I was thinking that, the lead truck exploded right in front of us. I saw flames and pieces of truck flying at the same time the noise and percussion hit us.
We all bailed out of the remaining vehicles and took cover under our trucks behind the big tires. Meanwhile, someone in the command jeep called it in and a dust-off was on the way with reinforcements and medics.
In the midst of all this destruction and confusion, after a few minutes this little boy of about 5-6 came out of some brush playing with a hackey-sak and hitting us up for candy, cigarettes and the usual. "Hey, GI, you No.1 - gimme dollah."
We all felt pretty silly hiding under the trucks while this kid was dancing around telling us we were "No. 1 GIs." It seemed pretty quiet, so we began coming out into the open to see what had happened, just about the time the cavalry arrived. I think the driver and passenger were hurt pretty bad in the lead truck (in fact I'm pretty sure one of them died). That it could have just as easily been me didn't gel until I was back in my hootch that night.
In looking around and photographing the site, I discovered several pieces of shrapnel - hot and sharp - the IED was probably a 105 shell that didn't detonate. Charlie would take these duds, make them hot, bury them and wait for a likely candidate to blow up. I grabbed one piece of shrapnel, stuck it in my helmet band and handed my camera to one of the other guys. The resulting photo is what graces the cover of this blog. On the back of the photo is "Phan Thiet" in pencil - so I assume it was between the Phan Thiet airbase and some forward pigsty.
That's all I remember. I've got a psychologist trying to dig more out, but I don't know that we'll ever get any further than what I've just related.
Oh! Except one thing. After a while the kid was no where to be found. We figured he lived in a Vil nearby and went home. One of the more experienced guys who was stationed nearby and came in with the reinforcements was convinced it was probably the kid who'd clacked the clapper. Though there were tunnel complexes, there was no Vil nearby - none of us had a clue where he came from... or went to.
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