tl;dr version of that post: It's how I got my first of many STDs

Sin Cities were whorehouses sanctioned by the army. The military police would be stationed outside during the day, and they made sure that you were gone before nightfall. GI’s would go there to have a little fun and blow off some stream with the mama-sans. You could buy a beer for around 50 piasters and sex for 300 piasters. The mama-san would say “you number 1 GI” which meant great, number 10 meant you suck, and sex was “boom boom” and that usually happened in a small room behind the bar.

Everything in An Khe looked old and dirty; buildings were made from cardboard and odd pieces of tin. Like Tijuana, with enough American dollars, the key to the city was yours. Drugs and prostitution were big among the troops; go figure! Get high, find sexual gratification with a mama-san, and pretend it’s your girl and hope you don’t get the Clap!

There was a huge commissary, “Wal-Mart like” in the middle of the camp; it had everything except a ticket back to the world! It had electronics of all kinds, jewelry and clothing, and the biggest seller, cigarettes! With cigarettes, you could trade to the Vietnamese for just about anything. With enough cigarettes, I probably could have gotten a ticket back to the world. Camp Radcliff was like a small city back in California. It was located near An Khe. An Khe was a small Vietnamese city that looked similar to Tijuana Mexico in the 60’s. One section of An Khe was often referred to as, “Sin City.” Most Vietnamese cities near a military base had their own Sin City.

It was difficult getting use to the relentless firing of artillery. The 105mm and 8-inch howitzers and the 175mm guns fired all day and night, mostly at night, harassment and interdiction (H&I) fire. The sound and shock waves were unbelievable! I would lie on my cot at night thinking about what it must be like on the receiving end of those guns. I knew what it was like with VC or NVA mortars and rockets. It was very frightening to say the least. I just could not imagine being on the receiving end of the magnitude of firepower that was unleashed on the Vietcong and NVA every day and night from Camp Radcliff. It must have been like Dante’s Inferno, a “Living Hell!”

Echo Company was out on a mission when I arrived at Camp Radcliff. Camp Radcliff was a very big place. It was originally built as the base camp for the 1st Cavalry Division in 1965. It became home for the 4th Infantry Division, and thus 1st Battalion, 14th Infantry in early 1970. Its strategic location allowed for the defense and control of the Central Highlands. Hon Cong Mountain was a prominent landmark right in the middle of the base camp. From the top, you could see for miles. There was an observation post on top with a communication tower and a very large searchlight. It was common to have mortar attacks during the day and night. At night, the searchlight would light up the area where the mortar shells hit. Because the base was so big, you became accustomed to the sound of the mortar shells after a few nights. I can still hear the sound…

When I arrived at Camp Radcliff I was assigned to Echo Company, recon platoon 1st Battalion, 14th Infantry; “The Golden Dragons.” The 14th Infantry was named Golden Dragons during the Boxer Rebellion of 1900. The Chinese dubbed the American unit, “Golden Dragons,” because of their fierce fighting spirit. The Golden dragons also fought in the Iraqi war; a war of similar consequences of Vietnam. Iraq like Vietnam was a war of so many contradictions…

After my rejection from the 75th Rangers, I was assigned to a recon platoon out of the Divisional Base at Camp Radcliff. I rode on a convoy to Camp Radcliff from Pleiku on highway 19 passing through a narrow slit in the mountains known as the Mang Yang Pass. The pass is infamous for the 1954 ambush of the French. It’s said that over 2000 French soldiers died that day and were buried standing up, facing the west. That defeat and the defeat at Dien Bien Phu ultimately forced them to sign a peace agreement with the Viet Minh a month later. It was very intimidating passing through that narrow stretch of highway with its history of so many ambushes. I felt like a sitting duck in the back of that deuce and a half. We passed without incident and continued on to Camp Radcliff.

I made the run and passed the course only to be told that I did not pass the security screening because of an arrest for possession of marijuana. I was eighteen and fresh out of high school and was busted for thirteen roaches in 1968. Then, there in Vietnam, I was told that I was a security risk, when everywhere that I went up until that point in time, marijuana was smoked as casually as smoking tobacco. I remember being disappointed. Looking back on it now, I think I was fortunate. I mean spending a year in the jungle as a 75th Infantry ranger; seems a little crazy in retrospection. Just shows how naïve I was!

I became very excited and informed the sergeant. He didn’t seem too interested so I figured it was okay and continued my watch for the night.

What really stands out in my memory from the recondo training course is the running. For two weeks, I could not walk anywhere. I had to run, even if it were only two or three steps, I had to run. If you were caught walking, you had to do fifty push-ups. I must say, “I got pretty good at doing push-ups”. The final test was again, running! This time it was a five-mile run to be completed in less than an hour. What made it tough was that you wore complete jungle fatigues with weapon, ammunition, water and a thirty-pound sand bag in your rucksack during the hottest part of the day.

Technically, my first mission in Vietnam was during my recondo training course. One night the sergeant took me and three other soldiers outside of Camp Enari. We traveled light and headed for a wooded area about a kilometer out. The sergeant explained that we were on a reconnaissance patrol and that stealth was priority one. What made the patrol interesting was that the sergeant appeared to become a little nervous. I figured it was because he was out there with four FNGs, so I kept my eyes and ears open. That night we made camp in a small depression under some thick brush. Just after nightfall, I spotted some movement on a trail about 100 meters away. I saw the silhouette of two men walking quickly toward the Base Camp.

I did complete the artillery course, and it was unbelievable! It felt as if the rounds were falling right on top of me. I remember thinking about what the sergeant from Texas had said back at Cam Rahn Bay. Fortunately, I never had to use this tactic during my tour in country.

After classes and orientation to Vietnam, I signed up for the recondo training course. I was issued my gear including an M-16 with ammunition. Finally, I was assigned a weapon! I felt a little more secure, but still scared as hell! I passed the recondo course, which required learning advanced skills in escape, evasion, and survival. At one point, I had to call an artillery strike within fifty yards of my own position. This was a tactic used in the event that your position had been over run by the enemy. I remember the day that I was assigned to the artillery range, I was very apprehensive, and thought about quitting the course, until I found out that the 105 howitzers had been used many times and even if you gave them the wrong coordinances, they would always use the correct ones.

At this point, I believe I started to become a little paranoid. One night inside my quonset hut, I began to think that this was all a dream, and I would soon wake up, and that everyone there was playing a trick on me. I realized it was no trick when a mortar dropped near the quonset hut where I was staying, killing one soldier and wounded another.

After a short ride in the armored car, I was dropped off somewhere in Camp Enari. Camp Enari was a large base camp, devoid of trees, and the land looked much like what you find in South Georgia, lots of red clay and plenty of dust, which kicked up every time a helicopter came in. I found my way to the in-processing facility, and was assigned to a transit barrack (quonset hut) that was located near by. I spent about five days in the transit area attending classes and orientation to Vietnam.

I remember getting into a military bus that looked like an armored car. I can’t see an image of the bus, but somewhere in the collage, I remember thinking it was like an armored car. As we drove through Pleiku City, the driver told us to keep our heads down because of sniper fire. I was getting deep into the action and felt a little concerned because I still had no weapon.

The next day I was called into a large room where they read off my unit assignment. I was assigned to the 4th Infantry Division, which at that time, was headquartered at Camp Enari near Pleiku in the Central Highlands, in the military area called II Corps. I loaded onto a C-130 cargo plane and flew to an American Air Force Base located just outside of Pleiku. Pleiku was inhabited primarily by Montagnards the indigenous people of the Central Highlands. The term Montagnard means “mountain people” in French and is a carry over from the French colonial period in Vietnam.

After a few times of sliding down and crawling back up the muddy mountainside, he would stick the barrel of his weapon into the mud, using it as a grappling hook to pull himself up to the top of the mountain. He said the fight was no longer with the NVA or the VC, it was with the mountain and the rain, the jungle, the leeches and ticks, they were the enemy. The way he told the story made me laugh, but after a few months in country, the laughs turned to tears. The stories were prophetic; we all shared the same war! And I was so happy for those guys, I could feel the sheer joy of their happiness; it was palpable, they were going home, “back to the world.”

I did hear one funny story that stands out in my memory. It was told by a guy who was very jovial and had an infectious laugh, he talked about all kinds of funny things. He talked about the people of Vietnam and the military, and about his R&R in Bangkok, but his funniest story was about the Central Highlands. It was a funny story of survival, immersed in satirical irony. He said the Central Highlands was a nightmare during the monsoon season. The ticks and leeches were everywhere, and the rain was relentless. He said they would fight all day climbing and cutting the jungle from the mountainside with machetes only to slide back down in the leech-infested mud.

The first few rounds landed outside of the intended target, so he adjusted his coordinances. The next thing he remembered was the sound of incoming, and then he felt the outward movement of air, and heard the sound wave from the explosion. Immediately following the sound wave, he heard pieces of shrapnel tumble and fly through the air. He said, “These are sounds I will never forget.” His squad suffered casualties, and a number of wounded soldiers. He survived with minor injuries. I heard other stories of death, survival and mishap and wondered how I would possibly survive in this hostile world.

My first memory of Vietnam was the warm humid air; it engulfed my body as I stepped off the airplane in Cam Rahn Bay. It seemed so alien to me, I had never felt that depth of penetrating humidity before. At that moment I knew the world had changed, I could literally feel it.

I was taken with the other FNG’s (f**king new guys) to a holding area where soldiers who were on their way home, or “back to the world” were staying. I stayed there for a few nights and heard many stories from the old timers; some scared me, others made me laugh. One of the stories that scared me was told by a sergeant from Texas, I think San Antonio. He was a big guy, with thick wavy dark hair that seemed to stand up as he told his story, I know mine did. His squad was out on patrol one night when they made contact with an unknown number of North Vietnamese Army, NVA. After a firefight broke out, he called for artillery support. Not knowing the number of enemy or their exact location, he called in coord