Sea of Bodies Peter Brush
On this date 55 years ago, I was at Khe Sanh. Same as many of you, 30 years ago on this date, I was at Khe Sanh. Back in 1993 not many American vets had returned to Vietnam. Fewer had gone back to Khe Sanh, as it was very difficult to visit the former combat base. The only sign it had been a battlefield was this monument celebrating the victory of the Liberation Army over the US and puppet troops. The monument was defaced with graffiti and was taken down by the government — I don’t recall it being mentioned by other visiting veterans. A Vietnamese friend translated the words on the monument for me. Her grandfather, who fought the French and the Americans, passed through the area in 1968 and said “it was a sea of bodies” and he was surprised he made it out alive. I felt that way too on many occasions, back in 1968. Best to all of you.
Article by Michael Pipkin
One of the battle-scarred USMC units in the late spring 1968 fighting at Khe Sanh, South Vietnam, was the 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment. A 2/1 veteran from that period is Foxtrot Company corpsman Michael Pipkin. You’ll come across Michael on various online memorial sites as he pays tribute to fallen comrades. It was Michael who reminded me of the role of Foxtrot 2/1 in one of the many overlooked battles in the post-siege months at Khe Sanh–the May 19, 1968, ambush and firefight that played out several hundred yards southwest of Khe Sanh Combat Base. The fighting raged near the scene of one of the most searing incidents of the siege, the February 25, 1968, ambush of a Bravo 1/26 patrol, which I wrote about in detail in Last Stand at Khe Sanh. A map on page 276 of Last Stand notes the contribution of the Marines of Golf 2/1 and Echo 2/3 during the May 19 engagement. But I inadvertently overlooked the central role of the men of Foxtrot 2/1 and Bravo 3rd Tanks. Foxtrot lost 18 men KIA and 36 wounded that day, Michael notes, and Bravo 3rd Tanks suffered casualties in all four tanks. Among the Foxtrot casualties were a pair of 20-year-old Marines from New Jersey: PFC Joseph Francis Burnham, KIA, and PFC Arthur Mortimer Rowe, who died of his wounds on June 1.Foxtrot got hit again on June 6, this time along Route 9, toward Ca Lu, which would become the new base for Marines in the area after Khe Sanh Combat Base was abandoned in early July. General William Westmoreland pronounced the siege of Khe Sanh broken in April 1968, and the spotlight turned elsewhere in Vietnam. But young Americans continued to fight and die around Khe Sanh until July. My thanks to Michael Pipkin, and so many others, for reminding us of the sons and brothers who gave their lives at Khe Sanh after the world moved on.
There is no Bob Hope
By Ray Cruz CBMU 301/B
In a land far, far away, in a time long ago, there lived. Wait, this is the way, fictitious stories begin. This is a true account, I am going to present you with facts , just the facts.
Time is Dec, 1967, exact day is uncertain, but close to Christmas. Location is Southeast Asia. Republic of South Vietnam, I Corp, Khe Sanh Combat Base to be exact.
This forward Combat base is located the North East region of I Corp near the DMZ and the infamous Ho Chi Min trail. A once lush and green Jungle/Forest, with a abundance of wildlife. The French had Tea and other crops plantations here. They also used this area as a resort for , hunting, trekking and other leisure activity for those that could, during French Colonial days.
Today it’s usage is for military , by the Unites States Armed Forces to defend the world from Communist aggression, I digress into politics and that is Fiction also, back to the facts
The Khe Sanh Combat Base at this time is inhabited by US Marines I will not try to separate the individual units since all Marines are indoctrinated to believe they are all Rifleman first, and whatever else they do is secondary. Twenty five hundred plus Marines plus some Air Force personnel, with a compliment of Special Forces and other Army personnel.
Complimenting and in support of the entire Base was a Detachment of the finest and best, US Navy Seabees. This unit is important to the story so the facts are, Bravo Detachment from Construction Battalion Maintenance Unit (CBMU) 301, Approximately 32 men, from the various rates that Seabees hold. Unlike Marines each Seabee has a distinct rate, a specialty or trade to speak
The Seabees hold rates as Heavy Equipment Operators, Construction Mechanics, Electricians, Builders, Steelworkers, Utility(plumbing/AC), Engineering Aids, specialties that do not allow any Seabee to perform each other’s trade. (Union contract)
On or about the week of Christmas, orders were given to pick up some equipment and parts in Danang. The assignment fell to Third class Construction Mechanic Jack Haigwood and Construction Mechanic Jim Lange. A Equipment operator also was directed to travel with the Mechanics in the event the equipment had to be moved, this task fell to EO Raymond Cruz
Due to the conditions on the base of constantly being harassed by NVA Gunners and the possibility of a ground attack, they each are fully dressed in the uniform of the day. That being Jungle Fatigues, Jungle boots, Flak jacket, Helmet, M-16, and full ammo belt, with gas mask.
If anyone has flown in and out of, example JFK, O’Hara, LAX, all you have to do is look at the reader board to locate your flight, gate and destination. The Khe Sanh Combat Base had none of these. You would walk out to the parking apron with gear in hand and waited for whatever landed and was able to get off the ground. Oh, the base also lacked Red Cap service, so you travel light.
I remember we three jumping aboard a CH-46 “Chinook”, hoping it was going to Dong Ha, where our main unit was located. This would be a bonus flight since we could visit with friends, get some good food and maybe get a shower. (Marines were always in the mood for a fight, I believe due too the chow being served at Khe Sanh). Oh no such luck, the Chinook lands in Quang Tri, south of Dong Ha. Quang Tri another base full of pissed off Marines, must be something in the Kool Aide.
The process is started all over again, wait and we wait, all planes landing and leaving are going elsewhere. Late that afternoon finally a C-123 s heading for Danang and with some luck there is room in the coach section, we must be truly blessed. Lets give this some perspective. In today’s modern air travel, this would take 1+ hour for the distance we were traveling. it has taken us a complete day. Arriving in Danang late in the afternoon we still have to acquire transportation to Naval Support Activity Danang. Taxis must be on some union break we could not hale one down. A Air Force Tech Sergeant in pressed starched greens, noticed our desperate look and allowed us to sit in the back of his shiny green pickup and dropped us off at the NSA Danang gate. The Gate that this wonderful Air Force personnel, who kindly gave us a lift is at the farthest point from the Supply Depot. This we find out after the Tech Sergeant leaves us in the hands of a Fleet Sailor playing Mall Cop at this gate. The Sailor in Garrison belt and 45 strapped to his side, checks our orders, waves us in, cool. We turned towards this marvelous image of Security and ask “where do we go”, very efficiently he points, without facing us
Arriving on foot with twilight now at our backs. We know nothing is going to happen but we pressed on, since orders are orders and they must be carried out. NSA supply depot personnel are all gone with the exception of a lone First Class. who was kind enough to tell us we could come back in the morning. After much stammering, he advised us we could spend some time in the EM Club and that the Bob Hope Christmas show was happening this day, Truly we are blessed, someone in the group must have kissed the Blarney stone, I dismiss myself since, I have kissed a few Irish girls but no Blarney or Barnie. We have managed to stay in shape the last couple of months so the walk across the base in full uniform of the day, has not hampered our jog to the Bob Hope Christmas show.
Having been at Khe Sanh for almost 4 months, it takes allot to get me excited, as well as the two traveling companions Jim and Jack, who have yet to miss a step, we walk in cadence almost automatically, nothing has yet broken our temper. Had we known then what we had ventured into,
We approach the outdoor theatre, we can clearly hear loud laughter, something we could only imagine ever happening at Khe Sanh, (it did happened once, the Chow hall posted a menu describing the evening meal, Soup de Jour, a green salad, choice of Prime Beef, or Chicken in a light cream sauce with mixed greens and wild rice) those cooks are real comedians. again I digress
We follow the throngs of well pressed Greens toward the sounds of laughter and the signature of humans with no stress, you can actually smell the relaxation in the air. This was like a pheromone too us three
Finally three resident from Khe Sanh are going to share in something other than C-rations, dust, mud and rats. We approach another Mall Cop who without hesitation and with the authority of Superman stopping a speeding train, puts his hand up flat up to our faces. With all of the education he received at some Ivy League school bellows out,” Where the fuck do you three fucks think you are going” such language took us by surprise.
We are going to the Bob Hope Christmas show, again the Ivy league trained linguist, opens his mouth “NO! the fuck your not”. This sets off a switch in every Seabees cerebral cortex and the three, step forward closer to the subject to cut down on swinging wildly and missing
A second MP approaches and begins to flex something of a muscle under those starched Greens and Helmet. The two Mall Police in Chorus say, NO! you are not getting in. We three Seabees move closer That gives us the appearance of looking bigger, a method used in the wild.
The two MP’s take a step back, and each reach up, grab and pinch their noses, “You guys Smell” With complete astonished look, we fell silent and searched each others faces for an explanation for why such a comment. We leaned into each other and took a whiff of each other and could not detect any strange odor
Fact, we had just spent the last 3+ months working 12 to 16 hour shifts rebuilding the Runway at Khe Sanh. Round the clock work schedule, in that Red laterite and mud that makes up that region. Sleeping in tents or Bunkers, eating C-rations and constantly diving, crawling, and dodging the daily and increasing frequency of Artillery shells. We all had that well worn out look, there was no laundry service and why? So to us, every one there at Khe Sanh, looked and smelled the same, nothing to write home about.
The two MP’s then and may I mention very eloquently pointed out that we not only smelled, our uniforms were filthy, and we had weapons, I had a M-16,16 magazines loaded, 2 grenades and a bandolier of 5.56ball ammo plus a Gas mask, pretty standard walking around outfit at Khe Sanh. Jim and Jack pretty much the same, except for the sidearm they carried.
We informed the two MP’s that we could not surrender the weapons, they informed us again, we were not going in. We started to press the issue when a handful of cloned MP’s arrived ( shiny helmets, starched greens, MP armbands ) they all look alike.
We could have shot our way in, since I doubt those sidearms they had, were probably empty and just for show. After much deliberating we decided to return to NSA and get a bunk for the night.
The MA on duty was very kind, think he took one look at us and felt it his Christian duty to help those in real need. We worked out an arrangement to have our weapons and gear in a separate locked storage unit. He pointed us to a gedunk that was still open, and had real food. We rushed over, inhaled some warm food. Returned to the Barracks and spent the next 2 hours in the hot showers. We each must have lost 5 lbs of layered red laterite that had accumulated on our skin. I washed my socks and skivies, while in the shower. then slept a full night on a mattress, with no rude awakenings
The next morning after a early breakfast, we picked up our equipment, supplies and managed to catch a direct flight back to Khe Sanh, not that we were in any rush, just our luck, as it was.
sidebar: when you subsist on C-ration for months on end, a meal of greasy eggs, bacon, sausage, buttered toast, milk and coffee, is not a good choice
So for years after leaving the Navy, I would always support that Bob Hope was a myth. I believe the Brass made him up, for the sake of moral. Let me add, I was also denied admission again to the Bob Hope Christmas Show 1968 Naha, Okinawa, while stationed at White Beach, Okinawa. ……….thats another true event,
being a Seabee is an Adventure, I would hate as I age to be placed in a Retirement Home for Old Seabee,……………..could not stand all those bullshit stories
Raymond Cruz “Ray” EOHCN
CBMU 301 “A” Co, Bravo Detachment
MCB 11 Security Platoon
White Beach Okinawa, Port Facilities
A walk around a Block in Brooklyn
By: Ray Cruz CBMU 301/B
June 1968,and Vietnam is several days behind me. I am home in Brooklyn, visiting with my Aunt, who looked after me before I left for the service. A day or two later,I get an invitation from my Father wishing to see me. I borrow a car for the day.
This day is one of those perfect Summer Brooklyn days, warm with a whisper of a breeze, T-shirt and sandals, is dress code for the day. No Jungle Fatigues.
Dads new residence since I left for the service, is in the Flatlands neighborhood of Brooklyn. Two and three story attached homes. The homes have mostly fenced cemented front yard with planters filled with flowers or fruit, mostly tomatoes. The area is predominately Italian, Irish with a sprinkling of Puerto Ricans and African American, a typical Blue Collar neighborhood in Brooklyn.
I locate the address, and park nearby, as I walked toward the house I take note of the two small banners in the window, with Blue Stars, American Legion Decal and American flag flying from the second floor. My younger brother a Marine, is currently in Vietnam. Dad was always very “Gung Ho” about the military. We know he, served in the Army during WWII but, not much detail is known, he was also a Commander in the American Legion. I recalled as a youngster a Army uniform hung in his closet. I never inspected it to closely, remembered that it was an Ike jacket and had some stripes on the sleeve.
I pulled the wrought iron gate open, immediately I hear his dog, “King”, a Collie Sheppard mix, intimidating at first but mostly loud and unruly. I can hear his wife yelling at the dog, Dad steps out with the dog on a leash, King tugs at the end of the leash and almost drags him toward me. He reaches me and I pet him, as I mentioned a large undisciplined dog. I get a wave and Dad takes the dog inside, he returns to a handshake, then gives me a hug.
I stand 6′ and at this time I weigh about 150lbs having lost over 15+ lbs., I step into the front yard standing next my Dad I forget that I stand more then a head taller then him. Dad, having grown up in the Red Hook section, had learned to be tough or at least act tough to survive I knew he boxed while he was in the CCC just before he joined the Army. He had the swagger and tough guy talk, He epitomized James Cagney of those tough guy movies.
I hear a voice call out to my Dad “Ray”, in the next yard is another member of the Greatest Generation, must be the diet or era but, most are 5’10” or less, he is clean shaven and wearing a clean white T-shirt. “John” meet my son he just returned from Vietnam,
” glad you made it home”, conversation turns to Tomatoes and some guy down the block that won’t share his recipe for big Beefsteak tomatoes. Dad grabs me tells me to take a walk with him, he wanted me to meet a few people. He waves at several folks doing the “Brooklyn”, hanging out on the steps or on lawn chairs behind their fenced off concrete front yards. We stopped at this one house as a gentleman in a starched white shirt steps to the gate. I note the banner hanging in the front window, this one has a Gold Star. I am introduced as before and the gentleman, reaches out and shakes my hand, never saying any thing, he smiled and then turned to my Dad and says “good looking young man”, I stepped back as they conversed. We continued around the corner, we are now on the backside of the block and the second house from the corner, we are met by couple on there lounge chairs, the man gets up as my Dad greets him and again the same comment he just returned from Vietnam. I look up and notice the banner in the second floor window with a Gold Star, the lady gets up and goes inside never saying a word.
We continue with my dad stopping to quickly chat and let them know who I am and were I was. We are near the end of the block and stop again to chat with a man with a heavy accent. My dad again tells the man who I am and were I had been. We start to leave I note there is a banner in the window of the door with a Gold Star, and I remembered he grabbed my hand to shake but he did it with both of his and tightly. We continued on our way as my Dad greeted every one like a politician running for office.
I visited for several hours, finally ran out of small talk, Dad never asked much about what and were I had been or what I did. Our relationship was mostly one day a week as we grew up. Having never done any thing special with him, we just existed in the same household. He did say he was glad I made it home ok, he invited me back.
That walk around the block, it took well over thirty years before I understood and, felt the impact of that walk around that one block, in Brooklyn.
Bait for the NVA
By: Ray Cruz CBMU301/B
Time frame late Feb early March, 1968, Khe Sanh Combat Base,
During the “Siege”, the Runway a 3900 ft of aluminum MA1 planks was the daily target of the301 NVA’s Artillery, Rocket and Mortar Gunners. The Seabees of Construction Battalion Maintenance Unit 301 Detachment Bravo, or CBMU 301, Det. B. maintained that Runway every day for the entire “Siege’
The runway was the lifeline for supplies, medical evacuation and when possible replacements The men of 301 would muster sometimes 3 teams to repair the damage, this was a daily task, On this one day our Team leader, P.O. Leblanc or Frenchy, Jim Post and myself (Raymond Cruz) are given order to investigate a sighting of a large crater on the eastern end of the runway. Now this runway was 3900 feet long but, a little less then 1/4 of the eastern end was in no mans land, that is outside of the perimeter
Frenchy had already scoped out the area, and requested we take the Pettibone a “cherry picker ” or silent hoist and one of our Deuce and 1/2, the one with no brakes, most of our equipment was in pretty bad shape from all of the shrapnel and hits, being that our yard was next to the runway
Now am sure that somewhere, there exist a manual written by a MIT graduate on how to safely stop a 2 1/2 ton dump truck on a aluminum surface with bald tires and no brakes. A quickie on how its done, you time your speed & distance so as you approach the desired location, you accelerate, turn, actually yank the steering in one direction as you start your 360 (donut) pull on the emergency brake, those of us that had enough hours using this method could got real close and we don’t count the more then a 360 revolution as errors as long as we stopped. I drove the Pettibone with Jim as shotgun, Frenchy was a performer with that 2 1/2, he was there waiting for us at the end of the runway. We approach this for real crater and I mean Crater and deep. I begin to understand why the Pettibone was requisitioned. This hole is over 6′ feet wide closer to 8, and about 25′ or better deep. We are looking around for the cause, no burn marks shrapnel or evidence for the cause. The decision was made to send Jim on the end of the cable to investigate, I should mention that Jim was not thrilled about this, a small debate about why and who would do this resulted in Jim volunteering, what dedication and espiri de corp or something like that. Just as we ready Jim on the cable and hook, we hear the distinct sound of a Mortar leaving its Tube so we run for the trenches near the side of the runway, Frenchy yells I saw a flash, Further Geographic description of KSCB, the Base is at a elevation of about 4900 ft and quickly descend into a valley, the eastern end of the runway is also the end of this plateau, Standing at the end of the runway, you can see the valley, several thousand feet below WE make love to Mother Earth, that is we grab as much dirt as we can and get real close ,for anything above the horizon of the lowest point and you get nominated for a Heart, Frenchy had 1 and Jim 2, I never claimed one, having lived a good life and blessed with speed. WE wait the mandatory time and get back to work. Again we hear that familiar sound and again the dash for cover, Frenchy is not running but standing there looking into the valley, and yells I KNOW WERE THAT SON OF A B%# IS.. He is on the radio to the Tower. A short time later a small group of Grunts appear, one of them with a Long Rifle and scope, a SNIPER. they begin jawing with Frenchy. This one Grunt and Frenchy come over instruct Jim and I to go ahead and start working again. Jim and I are a bit confused, we know what gonna happen and this NVA mortar keeps getting closer. They assure us that its ok, ( to be used as Bait ) Being good Seabees and follow orders, I fire up the Pettibone, here is the kicker when it would turn over it smoked something awfull, which was a turn on for this NVA gunner, again we hear the Mortar as it leaves the tube, Jim and I are on the go again, jim was never a good match for my speed and agility. A few minutes pass and this one Grunt and Frenchy are pulling us from the bosom of Mother Earth. Explaining that they have a good fix on this NVA and we should try this again. With dedication in our hearts we accept, this time Jim gets a jump on me, he must have a sixth sense about this one, but we also hear the crack of a rifle shot and a few cheers. The group of Grunts are picking up there gear and walking back to the comfort of their Bunkers. Frenchy come over and describes how the Sniper took out the NVA Mortar Gunner on the one shot, pretty cool but we still had to send Jim down into the Crater. Another debate on the merits of the job, Jim did go down, not for long as the base begins to take heavy artillery and rockets, big time so we made it back to the Alamo, the biggest and safest Bunker at Khe Sanh, built by who else Seabee of CBMU 301 Det. B.
This event was originally told in the jargon typical for that period for Grunts and Seabees during the “Siege” of Khe Sanh . A moment forever burned into my memory, I laugh and cry, miss those guys
This poem won an award ín the 2020 VA National Art Competition: Jerel Wenger CBMU301B
The Far Side of the Coin
On the night the soldiers came and took the man of peace away,
And the traitor asked forgiveness of the man he had betrayed,
He said, “Let him keep his dollars, and forgive the man his deed.
It was not an act of malice, and it was not done for greed.
It was written on the far side of the coin. It was written on the far side of the coin.”
When I saw some people lying in the gutter in the rain,
I asked my mother how they came there, and she tried her best to explain
That life turns out so differently than most of us would choose;
Some seem bound to catch the golden ring, and some seem bound to lose.
It was written on the far side of the coin, and there’ll always be a far side of the coin.
Still, it’s useless to despair; nobody promised life is fair, but you’ll never win the wager if you fold.
I can’t say if they’re wrong or right: to every day there is a night.
Sometimes the streets are dark and dangerous, sometimes they’re paved in gold.
It was written on the far side of the coin. It was written on the far side of the coin.
Once a young man much like me crouched in a hole – t’would be his grave –
And in mortal terror missed his mark, which his life cost and my life saved,
And although I’m sure he did not hate me, nor did I him, I guess,
Still, we were sworn to be our enemies, so I killed him nonetheless.
It was written on the far side of the coin.
The face is foreign on the far side of the coin.
Then I fell in love “forever”, ‘thought I’d never be alone,
But, then, by the time the children came, how far apart we’d grown!
When she said she could not love me, there was little I could say,
For we’d been drained of all of our passion, and the chance had slipped away.
It was written on the far side of the coin, but it’s hard to see the far side of the coin.
Still, it’s useless to despair; nobody promised life is fair, and still it’s full of wonders yet untold.
Just like sailors on the sea, Oh, we can’t see what is to be!
Sometimes the clouds are dark and ominous, sometimes they’re washed in gold.
It was written on the far side of the coin.
It was written on the far side of the coin.
As actors on the Stage of Life, we only see our roles,
But the Play is much more manifold, encompassing the Whole.
Some are vain in their humility, some humble for their vanity.
We crucify the righteous, then we bitch about humanity.
It is written on the far side of the coin, but it’s hard to see the far side of the coin.
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