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Prodigals by Richard Taylor {An Excerpt}

Prodigals by Richard Taylor {An Excerpt}

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Published by OpenRoadMedia

This well-written combat memoir is heartfelt, earnest, honest, and melancholy—a poignant look at two intense tours in Vietnam.

This well-written combat memoir is heartfelt, earnest, honest, and melancholy—a poignant look at two intense tours in Vietnam.

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Published by: OpenRoadMedia on Feb 25, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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“While a note of optimism is creeping into intelligence reports on progressof war in Vietnam, pessimism suddenly has taken hold in the U.S. Thepublic is becoming more and more insistent that the war in Vietnam eitherbe won, or be de-escalated by an American pullback.”
 —U.S. News & World Report, August 28. 1967 
Good Morning, Vietnam
 August 23-24, 1967 
 An explosion welcomed me to the Vietnam War, but it was not thedramatic attack I had been trained to handle. I was fully prepared to defendmyself, but I soon discovered that the enemy was everywhere, in our mindsas well as our physical presence. The final leg of the trip from the Philippines to Saigon wasmelodramatic. When I left Jacksonville, I’d anticipated arriving in Saigon with adrenaline pumping, all senses honed to a sharp edge, and keenly awareof all my training. I expected to rush from the airplane directly into a raging battle.My imagined baptism of fire was built on a myth. In reality, I was dog tired from nearly forty-eight hours with virtually no sleep, emotionally 
 wrecked by farewells with my parents and with Peggy. Frantic last-hurrahpartying in Oakland had not helped, either. When I saw bursts of lightthrough the airplane’s porthole, I didn’t know whether we were flying into alightning storm or over explosions of bombs and artillery. I no longer cared.In my exhausted condition, I just wanted to end the long journey and face whatever was thrown at me. Most of all I wanted to sleep, and I desperately  wanted to stretch my legs. AgruffAirForcesergeantmetusinthemiddleofthenight.Helinedusup, drill sergeant fashion, into proper lines for transportation to our nextdestination. I was dismayed to discover heat and humidity were actually  worse in Saigon than in the Philippines. The passenger terminal at Tan SanNhut was austere in contrast to Jacksonville, Atlanta, and San Francisco;this facility made even the barren terminal at Clark Field appear elegant. We were standing in a tin barn with a concrete floor and not much else; thisbusiest airport in the world had all the ambience of a chicken coop.Mostofourgroupreportedtoadeskwithasignoverheadreading“U.S. Army-Vietnam.” From there, transportation to Camp Alpha was arranged. At Camp Alpha the lucky ones were processed and transported to U.S.units. Twenty-five unfortunate souls reported to the MACV desk forrouting to Koepler Compound in downtown Saigon. At the MACV compound we would go through roughly the same procedures as theblessed ones, except we were to be shipped on to advisory teams with the ARVN—the Army of the Republic of Vietnam.Following instructions from our hard-bitten non-commissioned officer(NCO), we struggled to pile all our duffel bags into the back seats of the busand then sat near the front. I didn’t want to be separated from my bag, butthe driver announced: “Put your bags in the back and you sit in the front. That way you greenhorns won’t trip over your bags when you scramble outthe doors if we’re ambushed!”Maybe this was the real war after all. I felt naked without a weapon.Heightening my uneasiness, I noticed the windows of the bus had heavy  wire screens over them and opened only a couple of inches to allow the hot,stiflingairinside.Everyoneinthebustriedtoappearnonchalant,butIknew they were as nervous as I was—or at least I hoped they were. The busmoved forward, which forced hot air to circulate around us like a draftcreated when a door opens to a steaming sauna.
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Prodigals: A Vietnam Story

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