Battlefield Commission by Curt Munson

Author:Curt Munson [Munson, Curt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504971812
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Published: 2016-01-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Returning to Vietnam

“Am I going to Leavenworth after this call?”

I

Camp H.M. Smith

Okinawa, Japan

2250 hours

3 November 1970

For the entirety of my leave, I was on pins and needles trying not to piss Jennifer off any more than I already had. After almost two years of silly romantic fantasizing about what my leave would be like, the real deal was a horrific letdown. Jennifer was about a nano-second from flying off the handle or crying inconsolably for the entire thirty days. When I was finally on the plane back to Okinawa, I sat down and went to sleep almost that quickly. I’d been so keyed up, that just the release of the pressure of having to deal with Jennifer’s fury about my decisions had exhausted me. I hadn’t fully realized it, but heading back to combat was less stressful than being with my girlfriend.

When I awoke, the Lieutenant sitting next to me said, “Man, I have never seen anyone sleep that successfully in my life.”

“Really,” I replied, “how long was I out?”

“Well,” he answered, “the pilot just put on the ‘fasten seat belts’ light. We’re touching down on Hawaii in a few minutes.”

“No shit,” I exclaimed, “well, I guess that explains why I have to piss so bad.”

I recall reading a postcard that had a picture of a poodle on the front saying, “I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Rich is better.” I felt that way about arriving on Okinawa as an officer compared to being a PFC two years earlier. As an officer I was large and in charge. The sergeants busy screaming at the privates to do this and that always changed their timbre when addressing us. We still had to do all of the same stuff, stow our personal belongings, get our medical records checked to make sure our inoculations were up to date and have our orders endorsed for our final assignments. It was on this last point that my trip to Vietnam began to founder.

“You’ll be going to VMO-6 here on the Rock, Lieutenant,” the admin clerk said to me. He was a Lance Corporal and even with my brief tenure as an officer, I knew a decision like that was not being made at the sub-NCO level. As he was raising his rubber stamp I stayed his hand.

“Belay that, Lance Corporal,” I said. He looked at me as though he expected me to explode at him. “I need to see the highest ranking person in the building. Get me to him.”

“No new personnel are going to VMO-2, Lieutenant,” the boy quailed.

“I’m not new. I am returning from leave.”

“It don’t matter,” he replied, “once you’re on the Rock you stay here.”

A few minutes later I was told the same thing by a staff sergeant, and after that by the top sergeant, a master gunnery sergeant who looked like he might have been Dan Daly’s drill instructor.

“Lieutenant, your orders are going to be changed. You’ll be staying here on the rock.”

“Top, I’m on leave, I’m not PCS.

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