EsoFTHE

^ALE GREEX BERETS

 <r^^ /

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TALES OF THE GREEN BERETS

BY

HENRY P. HANSARD

Copyrighted 1986 by Henry P Hansard

 PREFACE

This book needed to be written and it's long overdue

in its formation and completion. The stories contain so much

personal involvement and so many experiences, it's impossible

to say which is of the most importance, the individuals or

the actual stories.

Many of these stories are based on rumors, opinions

and tales. I don't claim all written in this book is factual,

only that it is amusing and enjoyable. The stories are not

designed to embarass anyone. Quite the opposite. They are

meant to highlight a few events and people and entertain the

reader. (I laughed quite a bit while compiling them.)

When I first began to write these stories, it was

suggested that I useifictitious or anonymous names. This

may have been good for those who had some inside information or

knowledge about certain individuals and events, but it would

have taken away the reality and identity of those in the stories

Yes, some characters are readily identifiable. They provided

us with pleasure and entertainment in the midst of sorrow

and despair during the Viet Nam War. We of Special Forces

need this positive outlook. In remembering, this book became

a labor of love rather than an ordeal.

In this book we laugh at each other and allow outsiders

to laugh along with us. No one is a hero or scapegoat, only

 1

a distinct individual in a very impersonal world. In so many

instances. Special Forces soldiers were lumped together and

stereotyped. This was grossly unfair. Many spent three,

four and even five tours in Viet Nam and they deserve recognition

for their efforts.

These stories are the result of countless experiences

shared by us all. I would like to acknowledge not only the

contributions of others to this book but also the moving forces.

First of all, I would never have attempted this venture

without the interest and desire to write it by the late Colonel

Bill Simpson. He (Bill) ignited a spark of personal interest

within me to see the project accomplished. His untimely death

left us with a void. This book is dedicated to him.

Next, I have to thank Colonel Simpson's daughter, Peggy

Smith, who continued to hold things together after her father's

death. Peggy would have completed the book on her own if family

responsibilities had not taken priority.

A very special thanks goes to Alex Dean whose technical

advice, editing and preparation of the final draft was invaluable

Without her, the book may have never been completed.

Last of all, but not least, I must thank all the Special

Forces comrades who cheered me on, especially Guy Bianco, Ernie

Tabata, Richard Perkins and the "Over the Hill Gang" at the

Main NCO Club, They swamped me with their support and gave me

come excellent material. Without them, I would have never

attempted to put it all together.

1
 . 1

And if there is any credit due, it goes to the Special

Forces soldier, past, present and future, who will make these

stories a part of his history, heritage and legacy. If I

offend anyone, I sincerely apologize and take full blame and

responsi bi 1 i ty

HENRY P. HANSARD

1 1
 s

INDEX

STATESIDE

The Ghost(Bus)Busters
The Commo Committee
Snake Eaters
The Medic
Fixers and Tricksters
Go West Young Men
Thi rd Herd
Field Exercises
Post Support
Give Way Together
State Fair
Wheel er-Deel er
Cal 1 i ng Cards
Chopper
Paral 1 el
One-Eye Riley
Careful What you Say

OKINAWA

Pay Problems
The Motor Pool
Nickel Hamburgers
Fun and Games
Special Night at the Surf side
Yomi tan
The Rangers
Splish Splash
Clubs and More Clubs
More About the Clubs
Moving Day
The Buffet
Looney
Names and Games
The El ite
SI i ckie Boys
The Patriarchs
The Fighting Chaplain
Special Forces' Finest

IV
VIET NAM

200 Miles of Bad Road

Tra di ng Materi al
Press On
Jim
Rol1 Wi th the Punch
Uncle Bob
Third Time's the Charm
The LLDB
Rat Patrol
Present Arms
Cook i e
"C"-Day
Kasavubu
In Step With Style
A Name is a Name
Detail Reporting
Promoti on
STATESIDE
 THE GHOST{BUS)BUSTERS

Before the movie "Ghos tbusters " was released, Special

Forces created their own version of it. SF presents on wide

screen, in cinemascope, living color and rated XXX,

"Ghost(Bus) Busters," tactics designed to catch trainees who

skipped out on class or training.

In order to avoid detection, a trainee rode the

post ghost bus all

( ) day, 'Staying out of sight ... and off detail..

For if they were not careful, they'd be packed off to the Main

NCO Club for kitchen or cleaning "fun," or to Area II (Disneyland

for a good day's work hauling logs and spreading sawdust.

Disneyland was the name given to the troop demonstration area

whose upkeep required whole days of backbreaking "fun and games."

The demonstration area was later relocated to the Gabriel

Demonstration Area.

Enter the ghost bus busters

( ) 1 The first measure they

tried was roll call and muster formations. First Sergeant

Owanua of B Company and First Sergeant Desker Campbell of C

Company were notorious for this scheme. They'd order all those

in training to fall out into class formations. Then organize

a Sick Call formation, and put the remainder on detail.

Assignment to either of these two companies taught one

early on the principles of escape, evasion and infiltration

-- into the classes scheduled for training. If you were smart
 ( (

and quick enough, you'd fall out with one of the classes,

march along to the first intersection, and bug out.

This was only fair, considering that First Sergeant

Campbell had a mysterious way of keeping duty rosters.

He had one shown at inspection and another he posted. On

the latter list it was not uncommon to see names like Ogo,

Lane, McCann and Fletcher on two weekdays of KP in the same

week'.

A second measure to discourage ghosting was the color-

coded fatigue hat. Everyone wondered who thought this one up.

Rumor control blamed the Head Shed, Major James, the Commanding

Officer of Training Group, or the Sergeant Major, Servie, but

who knows? All personnel in Training Group who had not earned

the beret had to tape one of the color-coded pieces around

their hats. Company A used green. Company B used blue. And

Company C used red. If a trainee was found on the post ghost bus )

with a taped hat, he'd better have a good explanation.

The guys didn't waste any time circumventing this

measure. They'd remove the tape with ease and have it back

on again by formation time. They weren't nicknamed "sneaky

petes" for nothing.

Finally, the situation became so serious, that a guard

was posted on the post ghost bus to control ) riding. If you

made onetrip around the post and didn't get off, you were

immediately asked for your ID card and awarded a DR (Delinquent

Report) to take back to the 1st Sergeant. To avoid excuses,

no sleeping was allowed on the bus.

 Most trainees finally had to resort to the old standby

for secure ghosting -- the personal car.

 THE COMMO COMMITTEE

Over on the Communications Committee of Training Group

there were some instructors I'll never forget. First of all

there was Cowan, who was always in a good mood. With the first

name of Bartimneus, he had to bel

Next, there was Bush. Bush was fast on the sending key

and really knew his stuff. But Bush sticks in my mind because of

the beret he wore. It looked like it had been through the

Crusades and only barely fit the requirement of "green in color."

Bush would never change it and it was one of the smallest I've

ever seen, more like a beany on the top of his head.

Best of the lot was McCaskey. We called him "Shakey"

McCaskey. When he got mad he got nervous; cigarette ashes

would fly everywhere and he'd shake all over like a leaf.

A fourth instructor was Richardson, the mysterious one.

He wore a WW II Chinese campaign combat patch. When we got

upset with him we all wished he'd stayed over in China ... with

Mao, no less. He was a real taskmaster and could get under your

skin stressing radio security and secret codes.

The QIC (Officer in Charge) was Captain Swenson. He

did offer a little sensibility to an otherwise insensible

environment, though to work as an instructor there required

a certain degree of insensibility. You wound up dealing

with a lot of kooks (like myself) for trainees.

 .

The course lasted 16 weeks. That's a long time to

watch the same people trying to master or mess up the art

of receiving and transmitting 18 words per minute of Morse

code. When we finally became seniors, we really psychologically

destroyed the new class by telling them they'd have to pass a

code tape recorded at 25 words per minute. You should have

seen there faces 1

You couldn't drop out or quit the commo course. If

you had trouble, they'd give you personal attention. Trouble

often stemmed from tension; not relaxing enough to copy the

code. When we reached the 15-18 words per minute tape. Cowan

told us to relax, but he thought we had a mental block at this

speed. So he instructed us to go out and get drunk -- then

the next day everything would be clear. Cowan was partially

right. I had dit's and dah's running all through my head that

next day. Oh, how it achedl

We owe a lot to these early Special Forces instructors

on all the committees. Now and again I still see a few of them

and I have kind words and fond memories. They prepared us

wel 1 for the job

 SNAKE EATERS

One thing that used to irritate me is the image outsiders

had of Special Forces. As soon as you mentioned you were in

the SF or they saw your beret, comments like "snake eaters"

would immediately circulate. In some ways, we probably brought

it upon ourselves with the stupid demonstrations put on at

Disneyland and Gabriel Demonstration Area.

Once I was asked if I wanted to see some guy bite off

a rattlesnake's head. After I heard the description of blood

running out of the nose and mouth of the snake eater, that

was enough for me. I passed. But my curiousity was tinged.

Was this guy a freak? A wierdo? A kook? Just what kind of

a person would go for an animal act like that?

I soon found out.

Sergeant First Class Olsen taught on the Special Forces

Branch Committee. He looked normal, but I was leery of him.

He'd performed just this sort of demonstration and there was

another guy who was somewhat of a rival. It was a toss-up who

was the best: rumor had it that one had started the other,

but who cares? When asked for a head count, these guys gave

more than simple numbers. One response was, "two rattlers,

two copperheads and one co ttonmouth .

" YukI

I remember walking down the street when this same

guy, Olsen called me and two others over to his car. He

needed some help unloading. I climbed into the back seat

and there was a giant boa constrictor wrapped around the springs

of the seat. It wouldn't budge.

To tell the truth, I don't like any snake, poisonous

or otherwise. I surely didn't like handling this monster or

trying to pull it out. My coaxing and tugging didn't do much

good -- truthfully, my heart wasn't really into it, so I didn't

give it my best shot. Enough was enough. I left.

Later on I asked Olsen if and how he got the snake out.

He told me he just started up the car and turned on the heater.

Once the snake felt the heat and the change of temperature,

it turned loose of the springs and slithered on out.

In a way, I guess we've all contributed to that image

surrounding snakes.
 THE MEDIC

Becoming a Special Forces medic was no small accomplishment,

An individual had to be willing to go through three phases of

training, any of which could result in failure or recycling.

The job required the right temperament, stability, coolness

under stress and know how, for in numerous life and death

situations the medic alone might make the difference.

Individuals selected to take the course would go off

to Ft. Sam Houston, Texas, for about six months of what was

called Phase I. Here he'd learn not only basic skills but

receive some advanced training in minor surgery.

After this he'd return to Ft. Bragg for Phase II, better

known as Dog Lab. There's no use going into all the details.

It was commonly known that the students used wounded dogs in

Dog Lab to learn the lessons of gunshot wounds. In remote

areas of Viet Nam, this knowledge was vital.

The third phase was called Branch Training. This lasted

eight weeks, six in the classroom and two in a field exercise.

Special Forces techniques and skills were taught and all

trainees, regardless of their specialty, attended.

If trainees made it through all three phases, they

received their beret and a unit assignment. The Special Forces

medic, with about one year of formal training, was highly

trained and capable. Only one out of three who originally

began the course graduated. I've always had great respect

for the SF medics. Names like Hardy, Murphy, Harrison, Gary

P. Jones, Vincent O'Connor, Spruill, Reese, Bowens, Caesar,

Crocker and Potter are just a few that I remember.

One of the medics I met in Training Group was Fleming.

Willie Merkerson and I constantly harassed Fleming. We accused

him of losing all his patients at Dog Lab. Fleming obviously

had to have something on the ball to even get into the medical

course, but we still enjoyed the fun and Fleming took it in

good form. When Willie and I shipped out to Okinawa, so did

Fleming and all three of us ended up in the same company.

Some A team members returning from Viet Nam pulled a

good one on the medics at the Group Dispensary. Each team

member was required to turn in a stool specimen immediately

after returning back on Okinawa. These specimens were checked

for worms and most did have worms.

One member turned in a stool specimen of dog manure.

It passed with flying colors. The switch wasn't discovered

until someone started talking about it. After that, medics

almost stood over you while you put the specimen in the box.

I wonder if Fleming had anything to do with that stool

passing? Sorry, Fleming, I couldn't resist another opportunity

1 i ke that.
 FIXTERS AND TRICKSTERS

If you find a person with extra skills and diverse

talents in Special Forces, it's a good move to hold onto him.

He's worth his weight in gold.

There are times things have to be fixed quickly ...

even if only temporarily. This requires the exceptional talents

and know how of a person who may be a bit unconventional and

free wheeling. Whether he pastes it together, wir-es it

together or everi kimchi-rigs it together makes no difference.

If it works, that's all that counts.

Owen F. McCann was one such person of this caliber.

Owen and I met in Training Group. l.'e were in the same communi-

cations class. He was slightly older than most of us; not

very tall, but muscular and with the appearance of being

strong willed and determined. When he walked, he lurched

forward. I asked him why he always looked like he was searching

for a lost dollar bill on the ground. Owen replied that he

had spent several years of duty on a submarine and if you know

anything about those hatches on a submarine, you also know why

he was bent over. Indeed, his v/eather beaten face displayed

the telltale signs of wrinkles from days spent on deck of a

ship or standing in strong winds.

Owen was a pipefitter and boilerinaker by trade, but

when it came to hobbies and interests he was quite diverse.

He loved classical music and poetry. "The Charge of the Light

Brigade" was one of his favorites.

1
 Owen was also an inventor. One night Owen showed me

a game he had invented while serving in the Navy. The playing

board contained squares for longitude and latitude on the

ocean and different types of ships. The object of the game

was to locate and sink the opponent's ships, especially the

battleships. The whole game and rules were fascinating. Lo

and behold, later just such a game was marketed by one of the

large game companies. Sure makes one wonder.

Owen could fix almost anything. He'd just go about

his business and do it. He was a great friend and would go out

of his way to help you -- I'm sure we all know of others who

fit the same mold. Tell them what you need and let them go

to it.

Another guy in our communications class was Posada. Now

here was a person full of energy and enthusiasm. But everything

he touched turned to disaster (for lack of a better word).

We'd be out in the field sending messages back to home base.

Posada would get it into his head to improve on the antenna and

we'd lose contact altogether. If you wanted things to run

smoothly, don't bring Posada along; he'd find a way to disrupt

the whole operation.

Posada probably had an inferiority complex about his

size. He was slightly more than five feet tall and reminded

me of a little scooter. Like a busy bee, Posada was in and

out of everything, darting back and forth, qettinn into

everyone's affairs. He enjoyed baiting others and particularly

likedchallengingbigpeople.

1 I
 When Owen and I received orders to Okinav/a, so did

Posada. He was a pain all the way over and we never had much

rest from his antics. Once we got there, he was reassigned

to personnel and later on got discharged. I heard he settled
in Milwaukee, Wisonsin, and was selling houses. I sure hope

I heard right. If he was building ^>ouses that would be a

real catastrophe.

12
 .

GO WEST YOUNG MEN

How long does it take to travel by bus from Ft. Braqy,

North Carolina, to Oakland Army Terminal, California?

According to one Special Forces expert, 15 days.

That expert is Dusty Moore, so we'll consider the

source. I'm told this figure is presented after actually

accomplishing the trip and that Dusty Moore, Billy Waugh, Carlos

Sweat and another unnamed young man actually verified the

f i gure

Tfiey all set out for California and, according to their

report, they made four "pit stops." That doesn't sound like

too many stops. First, they were put off the bus in Shreveport,

Louisiana, for conduct unbecoming a passenger. I'm not sure

what that means or about the details, but it certainly sounds

like the characters involved didn't have to go too far to

fulfill their role in this act.

Next, somewhere in Colorado they were asked to stay

overnight and catch the next bus due to what the bus driver

called "unscheduled activities." That sounds pretty suspicious.

Third, in Flagstaff, Arizona, the Greyhound Bus Company

suggested they take a break from their long hours of escapades

and unlawful consumption of certain beverages. That's one I

do understand. Well, they got off the bus in Dallas, Texas,

I'll give them that, just long enough to meet up with an old

13
82d Airborne Division veteran from WW II. Also long enough

to get run back on the bus (the local yokels didn't take

kindly to all the attention shown the local ladiesl)

The highlight of the trip found a real good-looking

lady who resembled the bride oF Frankenstein stealing Dusty's

green beret. When Dusty shipped out to Viet Nam he refused

to wear a "leg" cap so, using good old SF improvisation, he

wore a Girl Scout taml

For those interested in taking the scenic tour to

California, I suggest the above-described route. For all

others, just catch a plane.

14
 THIRD HERD

When I returned from Okinawa, I was assigned to the

newly activated B Company, 3d Special Forces Group, better

known as the Third Herd. Most of its members were from

Okinawa returnees or Training Group. There were some real

good men in the unit and guys like Richard (Perk) Perkins

made it fun.

One day a new trooper fresh out of Training Group came

over and asked me where the gas chamber was located. I said

I didn't know and really didn't care, but why did he ask?

He pointed to Perkins, who always wore a gas mask container

around his waist, and asked, "He's the NCOIC of the gas chamber,

isn't he?"

While laughing I took him over to meet Perk and related

the conversation. Perk bellowed, opened up the container

and displayed his lunch. Perk also opened up tiis wallet --

with membership cards from e'^jery organization imaginable.

Perk said it was a good idea to be ready for anything and

anybody .

Another funny guy was Wild Man Kilmer of C Company.

He did so many crazy things that he was barred from the B

Company area by Sergeant Major Sevitts and Major Brewer. No

one knew exactly why, but he was a marked man.

 .

Third Herd received some real memorable training.

Mountain climbing in Pisgah National Forest, RB-15 boat training

at Camp Le Jeune. But the best training was at Eglin Air

Force Base in Florida. We flew straight down but on the way

back we were scheduled to jump in on Sicily Drop Zone at Ft.

Bragg. A teams learned a lot from the tropical environment

and good instruction from experienced team sergeants like

Wally Klink, Jaw Taylor, Jerry Hemphill and, of course,

Perkins,

After the exercise, Wally and Perk cooked up some

tuna and shared it around. Gilmore, Howard, Lightner, Harris,

Taylor and myself decided to go downtown to Ft. Walton to

look around. The Elk's Club was the only place that would admit

us in fatigues -- since it was afternoon they needed the business

Since I had an associate membership card from Pennsylvania

they bent the rules a bit and admitted all six of us. We

bought a setup and listenedto the DJ playing jazz records.

The manager informed us that we'd have to leave at

1800 when the dress code and members only policy went into

effect. But by the time 1800 rolled around, we'd bought

six setups and weren't about to leave. The manager quietly

placated us by letting us stay on the condition we'd remain

in the back out of sight. About that time I wandered back

to the lounge and fell asleep (passed out would be a better

assessment )

Denny Lightner and another guy decided they wanted to

dance witfi the ladies. Dirty jungle boots and fatigues

1 6
stomped all over the dance floor, not in the best condition

of sobriety. The Exalted Ruler of the lodge came over and

asked who let us in. The manager responded that one of us

had a membership card so the rest were bonafide guests.

By thai time tiicre v/as pure cnaos. I awoke to finci a host

of people standing over me shouting. The Exalted Ruler

escorted us to the exit and tore my card into little pieces

Dozens of angry faces followed our exit. Denny

Lightner turned to the manager and said, "Does this mean we

can't come back tomorrow?"

'17
 FIELD EXERCISES

Each year Special Warfare Center held a field exercise

to test students enrolled in the Special Forces Officer Course

and other personnel in similar training. The field exercise

was called Cherokee Trail. Special Forces personnel provided

the communications and served as umpires and officials.

The area normally used was Uwharrie National Forest

around Troy and Carthage, North Carolina. The local residents

were great to work with.

When we first arrived, a tall guy dressed in a filling

station attendant's uniform said he'd be helping the local "G"

chief and wanted to show us where we'd stay until the exercise

started. We followed him down to an old abandoned house where

he introduced us to an old farmer with piles of tobacco.

The farmer made it clear that if we expected to stay there, he

expected his tobacco to be barned. We started tying it up

right away ... we didn't like sleeping in the open any more than

necessary.

The whole area chose sides. The aggressor forces were

played by the elements of the 82d Airborne Division. The locals

either supported them or us, the guerilla forces. There was

no middle road. The local people took the exercise seriously

and emotions often ran high.

18
 One year the police chief let us use his jail cell to

lock up a captured soldier. Kids on bicycles would give us

the locations and movements of the other side. Everyone got

into the game. No one was exempt.

Amazingly, most of these people spoke in good old

unconventional warfare language to include the useage of

Special Forces terminology. They talked about safe houses,

dead letter drops, RON (rest overnight), contacts, rendezvous,

resupply drops, POW's, ambushes and even assassinations.

After awhile you began to wonder just who was taking the school

course. These people were sharp.

They also volunteered to act as lookouts, informers,

messengers and even truck drivers for a night ambush or raid.

If they liked you, they'd do almost anything at any time of

night or day.

Finally I asked how they could be so good at it.

One answer was that they liked the action. But someone else

explained that this area used to be a big "moonshine" area

and it took a Special Forces qualified man to protect his

liquor still. The exercise we were conducting was child's

play when compared to the real thing -- guarding against the

revenue agents.

I didn't ask any more questions.

19
 POST SUPPORT

Before the Viet Nam build-up and the 5th Special Forces

departed Fort Bragg, the name of the game was post support.

We were always pulling some sort of detail.

The fact that we had a lot of senior non-commissioned

officers was insignificant. We didn't get any slack. We pulled

post guard with Sergeant E-5's walking the posts. Staff Sergeant

E-6's were commanders of relief and a Master Sergeant E-8

served as sergeant of the guard. When we were assigned to sort

linen and shake sheets at Womack Army Hospital, E-8's drew

the duty, but were told to report in civilian clothes.

Moving household furniture for post housing was always

interesting. Inevitably the subject piece of furniture belonged

on the top floor, and some occupants would even ask us to

assemble something for them.

A few guys fired the furnaces for the billets over on

Gruber Road. After hearing their stories about "Coal Bin Willie,"

I'm glad I didn't pull that task. Willie wanted all the coal

bins whitewashed inside and out and all the coal sorted by lump

size. That job kept a Special Forces colonel busy for quite

a time.

While on post clean-up on one occasion, Rafael (Zam)

Zamarippa decided to stop off at the post bakery for some fresh

bread. I don't know how he persuaded me to tag along, but

20
 .

there we were, standing in the bakery, absorbed in the aroma,

asking for bread. The guy in charge wasn't giving away

"nothing but bubblegum and barbed wire." He booted us out.

Zam muttered "I'll be back."

Zam rarely failed. When it came to scrounging, Zam

was the best. He would get it if it could be gotten and only

his friends were safe from his clutches. This active, little

man dubbed the "midnight requi s i ti oner " could remove paint

off a moving car. We were glad he was ours.

Over at the motor pool, CWO Hardy Batchelor kept a

sharp lookout for Zam. Batchelor fought hard to keep"appropri ated

items" to a minimum.

Years later someone told me Zam had a good job in

Washington, D.C. Judging by his exploits in Special Forces,

he certainly is well qualified and highly trained for his job.

He works i n securi ty

2 I
 1

GIVE WAY TOGETHER

Some of you reading this story may have had the

opportunity to take boat training in Special Forces. The

importance of teamwork is stressed. If the starboard side is

pulling too strong or the port side is not pulling strong

enough, the boat will head in the wrong direction or zig-zag.

The boat commander must know the abilities and strengths of

his men so he can distribute them evenly on both sides.

Training begins in RB-15's or rubber boats designed

to carry 15 men. First stop is Mott Lake to spend a few days

getting used to the proper commands and launching the boat.

Next, down the coast for additional training and practice.

Then, with fairly stable personnel, on to the last phase

which requires a trip down to Camp Le Jeune for a week of

maneuvers .

The culmination of the training was a night insertion

by boat and a simulated destruction of a target with boat

exf i tration . We used a J-boat with a lanyard trailing behind

it. The object was to paddle close to the lanyard and hook on

with a snap link for towing to and from the target area.

During practice at night, if you missed the lanyard and

didn't get picked up, you had to row back up the channel all

night to get home. That was no fun. We missed it one night

when Bobby Filler got pulled out of the boat trying to hook on

22
Sergeant Major Anselmo just told us to "give way together"

and we rowed back home.

For our scheduled insertion, someone decided to put a

16th person in our boat, a young second lieutenant fresh out

of OCS. With an extra passenger, we had difficulty getting

to our target and even more difficulty locating and destroying

it, a simulated missile site. Wet, tired and in bad humor

we waitedifor the scheduled J-boat to pick us up. It never

materialized and we had to row all the way back.

About halfway home someone looked at the second lieutenant

and asked, "What's your claim to fame? Why aren't you rowing?"

The second lieutenant reached into his pocket, pulled

out a compass, and replied, "I'm keeping us on the right course."

Flapping and flailing arms and oars tried to get at

that second lieutenant. Fortunately, Sergeant Major Anselmo

quickly restored order, but you can believe everybody did some

rowing the rest of the way home.

23
 STATE FAIR

After Special Forces gained public attention and

high visibility, someone was not satisfied with the Gabriel

Demonstration as the prime means of showing Special Forces

techniques. An exhibition A team was organized to demonstrate

Special Forces capabilities, especially language capabilities.

This was rather comical since it was rare to find a Special

Forces trooper fluent in a foreign language (with a few

exceptions). The call went out for 14 men, 12 to put on the

show and two for backup.

The team was pulled out of 3d Special Forces Group.

I was chosen as one of the radio operators, primarily because

no other radio operator was stupid enough to get caught. True,

my personnel file showed a French language capability. I'd

attended a French language course and took two years in high

school, but was far from fluent. No matter. I was told to

go.

Members of the team included Simmons (who spoke Arabic),

Silvernail (who I think spoke German) and who could forget

Rodriguez. At the end of the performance Rodriguez would

say, "I speak Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, Spanish and a little

English." He was a great crowd pleaser.

One trip that stands out was to the Texas State Fair

in Dallas. We'd just returned from a dull and boring

24
pulled a lot of duty for Stephens.

We both were assigned from Okinawa to the same company

in the 3rd Special Forces Group. Stephens would appear with

a $50 bill in his hand announcing to anyone within listening

range that he was here to do business, money business, and he

was looking for a buyer. He didn't have to look far or long.

I'd knock someone down trying to get at that money. Fifty

dollars was real good pay for weekend duty.

I started watching the duty roster and whenever Stephens

was scheduled to pull duty, I'd just go over and get the money

from him before he could announce his willingness to pay.

That took a little bit of the fun out of it for Stephens. He

liked to show off -- profile is the word we used to describe it,

So he continued to flash the $50 bill even though the deal was

already sealed and the world knew he was a big spender.

Once in Viet Nam I observed him in action winning a lot

of money. He was all class. And that class continued when it

came to paying.

Someone said he's up in Alaska now. If so, there's sure

to be a deck of cards close by. All I can say, if you're

planning to play cards with Stephens for money, put some extra

in your shoe for the cab fare home after the game. You'll

need it.

2 7
 .

CALLING CARDS

One thing a Special Forces soldier never lacks is

self-confidence. It's exuberant and, in many cases, bubbles

al 1 over the pi ace

Look around and see if you have any personal calling cards

or name cards from Viet Nam. I. found a few. They describe

their owners as, among other things, soldiers of fortune,

adventurers, eager to go anywhere, anytime and any place and

do anything if the price is right, mercenaries for hire, skilled

in subversion, conversion, submersion and all the necessary

terminology. Some are experts in insurgency, counter- nsurgency i ,

conventional warfare, unconventional warfare and on and on.

Most are \/ery modest in describing their personal

attributes -- they are jacks of all trades and masters of all.

Where were these guys when I needed them in Nam? Probably

out getting estimates for printing their cards.

The best card in my collection is the one given to me

by Clinton D. Myrick right before he retired. If you know

Myrick, you also know his low opinion of himself. At the top

of card he lists his occupation: phi 1 antropi st , hero of the

oppressed, newsman's dream, world traveler, casual hero, bundle

kicker. That's not too bad, is it?

His name takes up about half of the card, the middle

half, and is printed in bold black letters. Underneath his

name it has "U.S. Army Special Forces, Far Eastern Jungle

20
 "

Fighter's Association LTD." I didn't know there was such

an animal. The bottom portion is reserved for abilities

and talents. The card reads: wars fought, revolutions started,

governments overthrown, riots initiated, in-laws evicted,

pagotas burned, tigers tamed, bars emptied, trains wrecked,

time bombs manufactured, judo and karate expert.

Anyone with a job opening? Try Afghanistan!

A lot of these cards were printed with fun intended.

And some can't be shared here since I promised to make all my

stories clean.

Recently I received a personal card from Big Al Worak.

He has a great approach. There's a Special Forces crest with a

green beret and a Special Forces dagger just below his name.

On the bottom of the card is a fitting tribute to all Special

Forces troopers. It reads, "For those who fought for it and

nearly lost it, life has a sweet taste the protected will never

enjoy.

We've come a long way.

29
 CHOPPER

When I was assigned to the 307th Engineer ii^ia'iion of

the 82d Airborne Division, t--? litt^lion had three very

eccentric mess sergeants.

Harris, the one in A Conpany, was a little whacky.

He couldn't stand for the KP's to shake the silverware =-t£r

rinsing it in the washer. He sure was in the wrong businessi

Once he told one of the T.ore zes'ous KP's to drop what re « = s

doing anc get on the serving line. The crazy ICP literally

dropped the trays he was carrying and junped right up into "'s

mashed potatoes and green oeas. Needless to say, this rattled

the mess sergeant. He was last seer, chasing that fP cut the

back door with a meat cleaver.

When you we^t s:nething done, you have to be specific.

You can't leave any room for questions or interpretation.

Jackson, the mess sergeant in B Company, acted like he

was head of M-15 spy operations in the James Bond novels.

Hidden by the dark, he'd sit in the back of the -ess rail at 0400

in the morning to see who arrived late for KP. Then he'd try

and work the late ones until Midnight to nake up for aissed

time. I later saw him in the 3rd SF Group but his philosophy

had changed somewhat by then.

The third mess sergeant. Manning c- -e= ; : . = -ters Company,

was a real clown. He told the three cadets *:- ..^st Point
 " .

Fighter's Association LTD." I didn't know there was such

an animal. The bottom portion is reserved for abilities

and talents. The card reads: wars fought, revolutions started,

governments overthrown, riots initiated, in-laws evicted,

pagotas burned, tigers tamed, bars emptied, trains wrecked,

time bombs manufactured, judo and karate expert.

Anyone with a job opening? Try Afghanistan!

A lot of these cards were printed with fun intended.

And some can't be shared here since I promised to make all my

stories clean.

Recently I received a personal card from Big Al Worak.

He has a great approach. There's a Special Forces crest with a

green beret and a Special Forces dagger just below his name.

On the bottom of the card is a fitting tribute to all Special

Forces troopers. It reads, "For those who fought for it and

nearly lost it, life has a sweet taste the protected will never

enjoy.

We ve come
'
a 1 ong way

29
 CHOPPER

When I was assigned to the 307th Engineer Battalion of

the 82d Airborne Division, the battalion had three very

eccentric mess sergeants.

Harris, the one in A Company, was a little whacky.

He couldn't stand for the KP's to shake the silverware after

rinsing it in the washer. He sure was in the wrong businessl

Once he told one of the more zealous KP ' s to drop what he was

doing and get on the serving line. The crazy KP literally

dropped the trays he was carrying and jumped right up into the

mashed potatoes and green peas. Needless to say, this rattled

the mess sergeant. He was last seen chasing that KP out the

back door with a meat cleaver.

When you want something done, you have to be specific.

You can't leave any room for questions or interpretation.

Jackson, the mess sergeant in B Company, acted like he

was head of M-15 spy operations in the James Bond novels.

Hidden by the dark, he'd sit in the back of the mess hall at 0400

in the morning to see who arrived late for KP. Then he'd try

and work the late ones until midnight to make up for missed

time. I later saw him in the 3rd SF Group but his philosophy

had changed somewhat by then.

The third mess sergeant. Manning of Headquarters Company,

was a real clown. He told the three cadets from West Point

30
 .

assigned to us for the summer that if they wanted to eat,

they'd better get a tray out of the rack. He was sent packing

to SF. I remember Manning drove a big six-passenger Cadillac

on Okinawa. Actually, it took one person to drive and five

to push since it was constantly breaking down. Ernie Tabata

can verify all of the above info.

The one mess sergeant that everyone throughout Special

Forces remembers is Porkchop, "Chopper" for short. When I was

first introduced to Chopper I asked him what his real name was.

He responded, "Porkchop. Don't try and complicate things,

just call me Porkchop." His real name is Norman Racibor,

but I don't think many know or use his real name. Since that

time, I've never gotten complicated with Chopper, only better

acquainted with him.

Chopper was the only non-airborne mess sergeant that

remained in Special Forces. His longevity is almost a legend;

he was assigned for almost 20 years to Special Forces, mostly

on Okinawa.

Chopper was a valuable asset. One reason was the layout

of his mess hall. The food was always super. I don't know where

he ever got leftovers for meals the next day; it seemed like

everything was consumed at mealtime.

Chopper had a sneaky sense of humor and a \iery sarcastic

answer for everything, but under all that tough disguise was

a real marshmallow when it came to assisting others. Many a

person in Viet Nam was aided by Chopper's contribution of extra

rations and suppl i es

3 I
 Chopper's still a faithful and familiar face at the

annual reunion of the Special Forces Association. Hey, Chopper,

we still love you and no longer hold your "leg" status against

you.

32
 PARALLELS

It's not uncommon during a military career for someone

else to have a career that parallels your own. Often they

receive the same orders for the same assignment, get

promoted on the same set of orders and even retire at the

same time. In more than a few cases, these individuals become

buddies. Their lives are inseparable.

Master Sergeant Fred Williamson and Sergeant Major

Richard Perkins said they shadowed each other for many years,

almost right up to retirement. Ernie Bryant and Dave Perry

were always on the same set of orders together. And then

there was Joe Mancuso and Abe Flores.

Memory of Abe Flores always reverts back to the old

Fort Bragg Annex #1. Abe would show up at this NCO Club annex

for lunch with a can of sardines and proceed to help himself

to the remaining condiments, courtesy of the club system.

One day someone irritated with Abe suggested he heat up his

sardines in the warmer. Abe thought this a good idea, so

while he went about gathering his crackers, napkins and other

necessities, he placed his can of sardines in the warmer.

Phewl For six weeks thereafter the whole building smelled

like a fish market .

Big Al Worak, Sinkowitz and Zackie all appeared

together before a board for a direct commission. When

33
a board member. Major Call, asked why they wanted to be

officers, Zackie was the only one who spoke up. He said

he wanted to get his hands on some of that "easy" money

like he. Major Call, was making. Strange as it may be,

Zackie was the only one to receive a commission.

So much for telling it like it is.

(Portions of this information provided by Big Al

Worak, Richard Perkins and Ernie Bryant)

34
 .

ONE-EYE RILEY

How about the story of Sergeant First Class "One-Eye"

Riley.

Riley was standing on the runway in Nha Trang preparing

to go on operation as a small aircraft landed. He had his

gear piled up and wasn't paying much attention to what was

goi ng on around him.

Each of the aircraft that landed had an antenna about

18 inches long protruding out from the wing. For some reason

Riley turned his head. One of the antennas plucked his eyeball

right out of the socket!

After that, when Riley got to feeling good, he'd plop

his glass eye into a glass of beer and scare all the customers

at the American Legion on Okinawa.

But Riley's claim to fame is in another story. One night

he'd been downtown in Fayetteville drinking and having a good

time. Before turning in, he decided to get a late night snack.

So Riley drove into the Dixie Drive-In, located right outside

the Spring Lake exit of the post, and waited for the curb

service attendant to come out and take his order. It was a

long wait. Riley got a little sleep and rested his head. The

car was in neutral gear and, with Riley passed out on the

wheel, quietly drifted out on the highway before slowing to

a stop

35
 A state trooper passing by paused to see what the

problem was. He walked up to the window and rapped on the

glass. Riley rolled down the window and sleepily said,

"Two cheeseburgers and fries to go."

With one eye, no license and too much to drink, Riley

got a lot more than he bargained for.

(Information supplied by James Green)

3B
 CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY

When Sergeant First Class Peevey was assigned to one

of the Special Forces companies, words flew.

The company sergeant major at the time was Tryon, who

had a distinct speech impediment. Peevey, unfortunately, had

the same type of problem. He stuttered when he began to speak.

The day Peevy arrived at the orderly room, he went

in and asked for the sergeant major. He was shown into

Sergeant Major Tryon's office and said, "S-S-Sergeant F-F-First

C-C-Class P-P-Peevey reporting for duty, sergeant major."

Sergeant Major Tryon jumped up from his desk shouting,

"Are y-y-you t-t-trying to be funnv soldier?"

Fortunately those present knew the condition of both

men, and cooler heads prevailed, avoiding an incident. Later

on they both laughed about it with everyone else.

(Information given by Pappy Reese)

3 7
OKINAWA
 PAY PROBLEMS

If anyone tells you that he jumps for the love of it,

just start laughing in his face. He's full of baloney. Everyone

jumps for the extra money. Back in early Viet Nam days,

every month enlisted personnel received $55 extra and officers

got $110 extra for jumping.

When I first arrived in Okinawa, I thought I was the

only person with pay problems. I'd not jumped in two months,

so once I made a jump, I wanted my money.

If you had back jump pay coming, it was common practice

to get the paperwork filled out and go on down to finance

(located at Camp Kue) to get your money. Two months jump pay

was big money for me. So I hightailed it up to 1st Special

Forces Group personnel to process the necessary paperwork.

I must have been a little naive. Inside the gate there

was a line of people around the building in the same exact situation

as me. They all had pay problems of one sort or another.

Johnstone, the personnel sergeant major, had a real

problem keeping anyone efficient in the finance section.

After my waiting around most of the day, nothing much was

accomplished. Three trips later, I gave up. A month down the

road my money caught up with me in my regular paycheck.

Henry Hooper wasn't so patient. Camp Kue almost had

to build a new personnel building after his visit.

3
 Hooper was part of the team that put on demonstrations

at Matsuda for the counter-insurgency course. Hooper would

break about eight roof tiles with his hands and then break

a few 2x4 boards over his arm. Just looking at him, Hooper
was big and tall and could be threatening; but normally he

wore a warm smile and joked a lot.

He wasn't in a joking mood when it came to his money,

though. After his pay was screwed up once too often, Hooper

marched up to finance to see what the problem was. Some

smart-mouthed finance clerk told Hooper his pay would be

straightened out "eventually." That was the wrong answer.

When he heard a bunch of noise from the finance section,

Johnstone rushed in just in time to keep Hooper from using one

of the finance clerks as a training aid. A number of desks

were toppled and Hoover had that smart-mouthed finance clerk

up in the air.

Hooper got his money that very same day. And the finance

section got a short course in customer relations.

Hooper told me he wanted to work for the Border Patrol

in Texas after he was discharged. I sure hope they pay on time

-- I'd hate to hear rumbling out of the Lone Star state.

3 9
 THE MOTOR POOL

You had to be present to picture some of the personnel

assigned to the 1st Special Forces Group motor pool. The

motor officer, Chief Warrant Officer Harry Rice, could have

pulled out all of his hair over some of the pranks they

pulled, that is if he had any. Instead, Harry just shook his

head in disbelief.

If you needed a vehicle repaired, you didn't take it

to the motor pool. The mechanics were dangerous. Two of

them, (Head) Harris and (Tray-man) Treadwell, would make you

laugh just talking to them. What they didn't know about the

art of fixing vehicles they made up in humor.

They both looked forward to getting off work and making

it down to the Fours Corners, Koza. First on the agenda was

a big plate of wrinkled steaks (that's chitterlings for the

uninitiated) followed by a stroll around the area.

Harris liked to keep his head shaved clean. He had

visions of boxing for the U.S. Army Boxing Team on the island.

These were only visions. He went up to the gym for a sparring

session and his head was so huge and shiny his opponent couldn't

miss. Harris almost got killed.

Treadwell was about 100 pounds soaking wet and a strong

wind would have blown him into the China Sea. He had an uncanny

AQ
ability to identify all the jazz albums and artists when

they played at a certain club.

To make a long story short, one payday Harris and

Treadwell decided to tie one on downtown. So they sauntered

into their favorite bar and ordered a bottle of sake and a

bottle of Akadama wine. Have you ever tried mixing these

two drinks? Don ' t!

The next day the motor pool sergeant Daly and his

assistant Pittman looked all over for Harris and Treadwell.

One of the other mechanics, Desmond, said they both had gone

on sick call. For good reason, no doubt.

When the origin of their "sick call" was discovered,

someone said Harris and Treadwell were drinking sake and

"Act-a-damn-f ool" wine. That's the best description I've ever

heard for that particular combination of drinks.

4 1
 .

NICKEL HAMBURGERS

Relocating the entire 1st Special Forces Group to

Machinato was a good move, pulling us all together in one place

instead of scattered all over the island. Headquarters remained

at Kadena Circle and Communications Company remained at Chibana

for awhi 1 e

The Surfside Club became the Special Forces domain and

the whole group supported the club and its programs. One of

the bargains the club introduced was the Nickel Hamburger special

on Sunday afternoons. When they featured this special, people

would come from all over just to get the "bennies" and usually

they would arrive with a carload of kids. Have you ever seen

a two year old tackle a fatburger? Quite a sightl Any other

time of the week, of course, these patrons could not be found

supporting the club ... but just offer something special and

here they come.

Most of the faithful members who spent their money at

the club were geographical bachelors on unaccompanied tours.

These guys remained in the Stag Bar, never venturing into the

main ballroom except for an occasional floor show.

On one particular Sunday afternoon, Al Fontes, Kemmett,

Gabby Johnson and a number of others got fed up with the way

things were going. They started ordering nickel hamburgers

by the dozen. After about ten orders, they took all the

M
 .

hamburgers, stuffed them into a duffle bag and made their

way into the main ballroom. When they came to a table with

one family with four kids woofing down hamburgers, they

dumped hamburgers all over the table. On to the next table

and so on

Of course, that was the end of the infamous Nickel

Hamburger special. But the story was a real source of humor

for all those Special Forces troopers who continued to

support the Stag Bar.

43
 FUN AND GAMES

Anyone for volleyball?

If you were assigned to D Company, 1st Special Forces

Group on Okinawa, you may have wanted to think twice before

answering in the affirmative.

Every Wednesday afternoon after normal duty hours, the

commander. Major Lang, assembled everyone available for a good

old game of volleyball, junglestyle. This means anything goes

-- hanging on the net, carrying the ball and even physical

contact if necessary.

The executive officer. Major Harkins, hated the game

and always tried to avoid it. The company sergeant major,

Boyette, did something even better. He always bugged out right

before game time.

Many a trooper lost his good nature, his cool and good

attitude, playing opposite Major Lang. Rank had no privileges

and no prisoners were taken. On numerous occasions blood

was known to flow and injuries were sustained.

To fully appreciate Major Lang, one must imagine the

difficult task of a company commander. Teams were constantly

dispatched in and out of Viet Nam and through it all we were

scheduled for our annual IG (Inspector General) inspection.

Some personnel were indeed cooperative and tried to carry

out all the detailed preparations for the inspection, but

A.\
quite a few others hid out at the Legion in Sukiran or

Coral Hills Club. When work had to be done, they were nowhere

around .

Finally Major Lang tired of it all and held a mandatory

formation for all personnel in the company. His message went

something like this.

"Men, I know many of you are working hard to get us

through this inspection while others are busy goofing off and

doing nothing. For those of you who refuse to cooperate and

don't want to help, just step forward and I'll personally roll

your socks."

You could have heard a pin drop. Major Lang had been

a top boxer in his early days and everyone knew it. He also

had arms on him like telephone poles. No one ventured forward

Needless to say, he got excellent cooperation from that

time forward and we passed the IG with flying colors.

45
 . y .

SPECIAL NIGHT AT THE SURFSIDE

One evening a large group of SFers were having a good

time at the Surfside Club in Machinate. It was Thursday night,

steak night, and the special offered two steaks for the price

of one. It was also the night Staff Sergeant Stephens of D

Company almost started a riot because he had nothing better

to do.

Most single Special Forces troops stayed in the Stag

Bar and only ventured into the ballroom for change to play

the slot machines or to watch an occasional floor show. This

particular night a retired chief petty officer of the Navy was

quietly eating his meal, enjoying his wife and the entertainment.

The chief petty officer had the appearance of timidity. Stephens

decided to run him off, probably because this guy looked like

a "leg" (not airborne qualified). He def i ni tel wasn't S F

Stephens walked over to the chief petty officer and

asked, "Enjoying your meal?"

The man smiled and replied, "Yes, I certainly am."

Stephens then said, "Maybe you'd like to wrap it up and

take it with you?"

The chief petty officer stopped smiling and started to

get up. It took a full minute for him to do so, because he

was about 6'8" tal 1

46
 At that precise moment. Sergeant First Class Howard

Hill, the admin NCO of D Company, ran over to Stephens and

grabbed him saying, "Steve, get hold of yourself." Stephens

was a bit tipsy, but he sobered up quick enough to say, "Don't

hold me, you fool, grab that big gorilla before he starts

tearing us both apart."

Fortunately, the chief petty officer cooled off and

left the club, vowing never to return to such a rowdy place

again.

47
 YOMITAN

Special Forces demands flexibility, particularly during

airborne operations. Often the guys who do the most talking

and clowning around on the ground are the quietest and most

nervous once the aircraft gets underway. Nervousness is

normal; I'd always have a f ew . butterf ies 1 in my stomach when

jump time came around.

Once helicopters took over, a lot of the bef ore-j ump- time

anxiety and anticipation disappeared. The pace was accelerated

and, in some ways, helicopters took a lot of the fun out of

jumping. Now they'd take you right up, hover and drop you

safely at the designated spot.

What a change and what a whimpy thing to dol Whatever

happened to the time when you boarded a C-130 or some other

aircraft with full field gear and waited about two hours, all

suited up, for manifest call. The helicopter eliminated all

this pleasure (or was it suffering?).

On Okinawa just getting on the ground safely could be

a real challenge. I firmly believe the people who chose the

Yomitan Drop Zone had a little fun at the expense of the jumper.

(They may even have been "legs.") It was quite an achievement

to exit the aircraft, sometimes at night, with nothing but

concrete runways underneath you.

40
 The main objective was to hit a field inbetween the

VJW II aircraft taxi areas and the runway. And, of course,

miss the hard stuff. Try slipping with a T-10 parachute.

You'll move all of three feet to either side, that's the max.

Those who didn't make the fields were greeted with howls and

laughter when, with bloody knees and elbows, they turned in

their chutes. I was one of those initiated by tearing up a

runway (or was it vice versa?)

Yomitan was known for making a person request a water

jump. Colonel (Splash) Kelly, the 1st Special Forces Group

commander, was so terrified of Yomitan that he made all his

jumps in the water up at Matsuda Range; hence his nickname,

"Splash." When Colonel Kelly jumped, it was a major operation

requiring pickup boats and the whole nine yards.

At Yomitan there was an antenna field at Torii Station

right across the road from the drop zone. This was the most

feared obstacle of all. If a jumpmaster put you out too soon,

all you saw was antennas (40-50 feet high) underneath you ...

and you started saying your prayers.

We did have one stick that went out over the antenna

field. The investigation that followed determined the jumpmaster

had suffered from "temporary insanity" or some disease called

"Vietnamitis." (How about that one?) One of the guys who

survived had just returned from a six month tour in Viet Nam

without injury. He was foaming at the mouth in rage. Had he

not been restrained, he would have committed bodily harm to

the jumpmaster.

4 9
 If you had to jump on Yomitan you earned your jump

pay and there are many, many gruesome stories told about

that place. Just ask any old Okinawa veteran. He's readily

identifiable by his scarred knee caps and throbbing elbows.

Just ask him.

50
 THE RANGERS

Special Forces on Okinawa made a great impact in

sports competitions.

It all started when the coach of the Army Ranger basket-

ball team sighted Ed Clough walking around the island. At

6'8" Ed looked awesome as a shot-blocking center. Ed was

recruited, but since he had no skills to go along with his

size, he quickly returned to soldiering fulltime.

When the football season rolled around. Special Forces

was ready. Not only was the coach. Major Maloney, from Special

Forces, but the quarterback was a SF trooper. To my recollection

Sergeant Major Lockhart assisted. But you can bet we were

well represented.

The Army Ranger team had a wealth of football talent

since the draft, still in effect, pulled them right out of

college. Some of the players on the Ranger team even had

contracts to play for the new American Football League. They

were huge and strong.

The Air Force also had a fine team called the Kadena

Falcons. Even though they could have fielded two teams, the

Air Force chose to only have one team and picked the best

for that team.

Now we come to the Marines. Their rationale dictated

that since they had both the 3d Marine Division and some Navy

personnel at Naha, they'd field three teams. So they organized

5 1
the Royals, Strikers and another team I think called the

Eagles. All three together really couldn't make one good team;

the good football players in the Marine Corps stay at Quantico

or Camp Le Jeune.

The Marines were convinced the law of averages favored

them. On the Marine Corps birthday, the commanding general of

the 3rd Marine Division ordered all available Marines to the

football stadium for the game with the Army Rangers. They

were ordered to appear in Class A uniform and stay until the

conclusion of the game. The Marines arrived along with a

mascot bulldog and a cannon to fire for each score. (The

gunners must have been sure of a bad day; they didn't even

bring along any cannisters.)

The Army team dressed a guy up like the Lone Ranger.

Each time the team scored, he'd leap up on his white horse,

appropriately named Silver, and gallop around the stadium track

Following a few opening remarks and the national anthem,

the game was underway. Army immediately began to crush the

Marines. By the time it was over, the final score was 33-0,

a complete blowout. Sitting through it all, the Marines

were shell shocked. (Marines are brainwashed into believing

anything they . e told.)

At the ..Lfine Corps Ball after the game, insult was

added to injury. One of the Marine officers was informed

the Lone Ranger had been admitted to the hospital at Camp

Kue for saddle bu'-ns, and then added that Silver had to be
destroyed due to extreme exhaustion from all that running

Talk about pouring salt in an open woundl

53
 SPLISH SPLASH

A lot of commanders in Viet Nam became famous for their

code name or radio call sign. Today macho names such as Rambo 6

or Rocky 6 would certainly be used. Lieutenant Colonel

Huddleston, who commanded C-3 Detachment at Bien Hoa, adopted

the code name Crossbow 6. Other^s used such names as Dragonfly

or Red Raider.

The most flamboyant name belonged to Colonel Francis

Kelly, the 5th Special Forces Group commander. He "called"

himself Black Jack and became famous for his transmission of

"21" messages. If you did a good job and reported numerous

KIA's (enemy killed in action), the ultimate well done was a

"21" message from "Splash" Kelly. I often wondered if he sent

anyone a "22" message and, if you got one, did it mean not

only were you busted out but on the way out?

One had to know Colonel Kelly to appreciate his line of

thought. He was always in the process of trying to impress

others without ever really impressing anyone, not even the

lower enlisted men. Rumor had it Colonel Kelly sometimes rode

around Viet Nam with a replacement captain and team sergeant

aboard. If Kelly didn't like what he heard or saw at a

certain camp, he'd just relieve people on the spot.

I always hoped he'd relieve me at Loc Ninh and I know

some guys at Bu Dop and some other bad places who were constantly

5'4
on the lookout for him. They would have created an incident

to get out of some of those hell holes.

When Colonel Kelly took command of the 1st Special

Forces Group on Okinawa, he decided it would be nice to hold

an activation day celebration at Bishigawa Beach. He sent

the idea down through the companies; it bombed out. Most SF

personnel liked to keep their weekends free.

Boyette, the company sergeant major of D Company, asked

in formation for a show of hands of those planning to attend.

One guy raised his hand -- he was the company personnel and

admin sergeant and a real brown noser. Next thing we knew,

the whole company was ordered to a mandatory formation at

Bishigawa Beach, 0900, Saturday. Be there! No excuses!

What a drag. Roll call was taken and each company ordered

to participate in the games and contests. Floyd Kizzie, Bill

Moore and myself got stuck with a contest of assembling and

disassembling the M-60 machinegun.

Some real dud major came over and informed our company

commander. Major Dawson, that D Company wasn't winning too many

of the events. Major Dawson picked up his glass of bourbon

and replied in his thick Virginia drawl, "Sir, D Company

is not a company of losers, we are a company of lovers,

unsurpassed." We all burst out laughing and the major, a

flunky for group headquarters, beat a hasty retreat.

The final laugh was the welcome speech qiven by Colonel

Kelly. He had a flare for melodrama and was & real ham when

he had the chance to talk. Fortunately, we didn't have to

listen all that often.

5 5
 He started out by saying he was pleased to see the

large turnout (did we have a choice?) It only showed the

great enthusiasm and interest in having fun. RldiculousI We

almost threw up.

But since roll call had been taken earlier, as Colonel

Kelly spoke most everyone beat feet to the cars, leaving Colonel

Kelly talking to an almost empty set of bleachers.

He didn't even notice.

2^7. &

56
 CLUBS AND MORE CLUBS

One benefit of being stationed on Okinawa is the wide

choice of clubs to choose from.

The Air Force had two very elegant clubs. The Rocket

Club at Kadena Air Force Base was nice and offered good service

and many specials. The other Air Force club at Naha Air Base

was just as good but a little far from some of us living up

north on the island.

The Army also had a number of clubs for enlisted personnel.

The Topper Club at Sukiran was just what the name implies, you

had to be an NCO to get in. It was coat and tie on the s, eekends

and after duty hours. The Surfside at Machinato was the exclusive

hangout for all Special Forces. It made a bundle of money.

Coral Hills was in the Sukiran area and .as convenient for those

wanting to disappear during duty hours. Lower enlisted men went

to the Seaview Club in the Sukiran area and the Boat Club in

the same general vicinity. The Boat Club offered the best bowl

of pinto beans, navy beans or great northern beans on the

island, and threw in a slice of homemade cornbread.

The Marines had a number of clubs but no one frequented

them. They were way up north at Camp Schwab or Camp Hanson

and rowdy places. The Marines also had a club at Futenma

but not too many people ever saw the inside of that place.

As if these weren't enough^ the American Legion at

5/
Sukiran was available to all ranks. They had excellent

food and super live entertainment. The VFW also was located

in the Machinate area and pulled in a few when they held

bingo night.

So why go to town? Because the club system didn't have

everything you wanted. Someone in the high command must have

thought it did, however, since they decided to keep the clubs

and bowling alley open 24 hours a day. In fact, these two

facilities only closed for one hour in 24 to clean up and

handle the receipts for the day. If you were already inside,

they just asked you to lift your feet and wait an hour before

ordering anything. It wasn't unusual to come in from town at

2 a.m. and bowl a few frames just before reveille.

After the nickel hamburger incident at the Surfside Club,

Al Pontes started to manage the Seaview Club. This was probably

a good move on his part; Al certainly wasn't welcome at the

Topper Club.

The Topper Club's nightly show featured a pianist by

the name of Pierre who looked and played like Liberace. One

night Al couldn't take it anymore -- he rushed up on the stage

and kissed Pierre in the ear. (That's probably where that

type of greeting got started.) The night manager was shocked,

and so was Pierre. Al was barred indefinitely from the Toiiper

Club -- at least, until the Board of Governors met.

About a week later Pierre was again playing and Al

once again ran up and kissed him in the ear. The manager.

5 8
not the same one on duty the prior week, was surprised, but

Pierre was petrified. The manager quickly told Al he was barred

Al just laughed and said, "You can't bar me, I'm already
"
barred .

The manager's eyes grew big, he exclaimed, "OhI You're

the one?", and he ran to call the authorities. Al escaped but

for a long time had to confine himself to the other clubs on

the island.

I know Al is glad there are an abundance of clubs on

Okinawa .

59
 MORE ABOUT THE CLUBS

The clubs on Okinawa had the dual responsibility of

providing good service to the customers and keeping the peace.

The latter task was one that called for a lot of attention

and one most club managers didn't want to face.

Club managers hired the biggest, strongest, meanest

and most ferocious MA (Master of Arms) possible and this took

care of any disorderly conduct problem. The Topper Club had

a guy standing at the door who looked like King Kong.

Once the whole 1st Special Forces Group moved down to

Machinato, they virtually took over the Surfside Club. To deal

with any impending problems, the Surfside Club manager hired

Paul Payne as the night MA. Paul was small in stature, certainly

not the stereotype MA. But he was tough and had a reputation

for being able to handle situations in close quarters. When

Paul stepped into the Stag Bar and said quiet down, he usually

didn't get any lip. If Paul removed his glasses, you'd better

look out. He was about to remove someone physically from the

cl ub.

We had some real active characters in the Surfside.

They really didn't mean any harm, but sometimes were known to

get a little rowdy. Guys like Jim Parker, JohnTryon, Jim Noonan,

Big Willie Williams, Joe Woods and Al Pontes. If Paul wasn't

working that night, they could give the MA on duty a hard time.

60
especially if he was fairly new and not from SF. In most
cases, if you saw an MA on the door at one of the clubs, he'd

been tried, tested and never been bested -- so you'd be wise

not to start any rumble.

Once Paul Payne made Sergeant Major, he no longer worked

as MA at the Surfside and that left an open door to the rowdies

The club manager at the Surfside was a "leg" (not airborne

qualified), but he did have good sense. New Year's eve was

fast approaching and he knew he'd have trouble on his hands

without some good strong help to control the crowd.

He made one of the smartest moves I've ever seen. He

hired all the rowdy guys as MA ' s for that one evening. If you

can't control them, pay them. It worked.

Some of the guys hired were Ray Flaherty, Big Willie

Williams and Stephens. But the highlight of New Years Eve

must have been the outfit Al Fontes had on as an MA. It was

all white with tails and just super. The entire night Al was

a complete gentleman, moving from table to table like a

maitre'de and he was so^ handsome. See Al , we still remember

some of the good acts you put on at the club.

 MOVING DAY

One of the things constant on the island of Okinawa

was confusion. It reached the highest levels.

Nothing could have been more confusing than the move

between the 1st Special Forces Group and the 173rd Airborne

Brigade. Colonel Garrett, the commanding officer of the group,

made an agreement with Colonel Williamson, the commander of

the brigade, to exchange locations and billets at Sukiran and

Machinate. Unfortunately, none of this information was known

by the headquarters at USARYIS, or at least they c1 aimed to

have no knowledge of the move.

What a sight to see small "skoshi" cabs laden down with

mattresses, bunks, footlockers and everything imaginable headed

up and down the highway all over the island. It brought traffic

to a standstill.

The move tied up so many cabs and affected traffic so

heavily that Lieutenant General (Small) Paul Caraway, the

commander of USARYIS, stopped one of the cabs and inquired

from the riders what was going on. When he was told, he stated,

"No one informed me about this move."

The riders of the cab just shook their heads and replied,

"That's too bad, but that's life." Then they proceeded to

move on.

62
 Caraway was furious. He made everyone move back,

causing another period of havoc. Then finally, he relented

and, with his approval, the move was on again. But for some

time it was quite a joke trying to find out who was where.

2 019 91 9W

c .' V

j-S».: f rf*, + " » » •^ Mf ^% ma .\ ^_ #w p •

J.'-. ,..*«, ,^'

1 aP 1 s * «; -5^

6 3
 THE BUFFET

I always liked the atmosphere of the American Legion

on Okinawa, especially the Stag Lounge. It became a regular

hangout for a great many Special Forces personnel and it was

always active.

Some troopers would come in, shoot a few games of

shuff leboard, deal a few hands of pinochle and just relax and

drink a few cold ones. I say a few cold ones, but what Mike

McGillicudy thought was a few was definitely not a few to me.

He must have owned stock inneindcin. (Just kidding, Mike.)

The atmosphere was very much like a hometown cafe.

The purpose was to have fun. It was not uncommon for a member

to set up the entire lounge, especially if some money had changed

hands during the course of the day.

On Saturday a free buffet was laid out and everyone could

make good tasty sandwiches. The buffet drew freeloaders who

held club cards just for that purpose but never showed up any

other time. These were mostly Air Force personnel on their

lunch break. They'd buy one beer and nurse it until the food

arrived.

One Saturday after this had gone on for quite awhile.

Master Sergeant Harold (Jake) Jacobson was ready for them.

The waiter brought out the tray, but it never hit the table.

Jake grabbed the tray right out of the waiter 's hands and said.

64
"You guys want to eat, here it is, go get it." Out the back

door flew the cold cuts, cheese and assortment of pickles,

onions, mustard, mayonnaise and bread. The whole works.

You should have seen the look on the faces of those

Air Force guys. They were utterly crushed. Jake was fined

and had to pay for the tray. But he always said it was worth

it to see the expressions on those cheapskates' faces.

The lounge filled with laughter. By the time the tray

was replaced with another one, lunch hour was over and the

Air Force guys had left. I don't believe they ever returned.

65
 .

LOONEY

I
When you do something good in Special Forces, it

often goes completely unnoticed. But try doing something

unusual or different and everyone knows about it.

And special Forces members have long memories. Elephants

don't have anything on these guys. Of course, that works

two ways. Like going out on operations and forgetting to bring

along your water canteen or, worse, like Gilmore, being the

first one fined $50 for being late for a payday muster. Just

walking through all those guys standing in ranks and getting

into formation is enough embarassment , much less being fined.

When one of the teams came back from six months of TOY

in Viet Nam, one of the members by the name of Hamilton got

a little ribbing about being evacuated from the field because

of leech bites. It's pretty serious having 17 leeches on you

and losing a large amount of blood, but some people will find

anything to make a joke about. Two other members of that same

team, Schlutig and Looney, both related portions of this story

to me, but Looney was soon to have his own problems and source

of razzi ng

One day the CID (Criminal Investigation Detachment)

came around inquiring about John Looney's character and

asking what kind of soldier he was. The story leaked out

66
that John was under investigation for drug dealing.

Impossible! Ridiculous! But all the same, questions were

being asked. Later on the story thickened.. John had supposedly

given some drugs to some young kids. No way! Not Looney!

For awhile things remained hectic. Rumors flew. It

finally got all straightened out. It seems Looney had volunteered

to coach a Little League baseball team and after practice he

gave the kids some fruit flavored vitamins.. Looney told them it

would give them extra energy and pep

One of the kids went home and told his parents about

the good tasting miracle drugs Looney was dispensing to all the

ballplayers. You guessed it! The parents called the CID,

CID investigates, CID clears Looney, end of story.

Except we began poking fun at Looney by walking over

to him and saying, "Hey John, I'm not feeling too good today."

And, "Could you give me a few of those pep pills for some extra

energy?" He really got it from all sides.

67
 .

NAMES AND GAMES

If one thinks back, he can probably remember individuals

in Special Forces who had great nicknames. Nicknames became

so popular and were used so frequently, one easily forgot the

person ' s real name

For example, who knows what Bull Simons first name was?

Others like Jaw Taylor and Bata Boots Bennett are known

throughout Special Forces. Let's see if you recall some of

these names today. One-eye Riley, Porkchop Racibor, Dusty

Moore, a slew of pappys. Pappy Reese, Pappy Greer and Pappy

Schrack, Red Ramsey, Three finger Kreilick, Boo Boo Alford,

Speedy Gaspar, Chooch Chiarello, Cowboy Copus, Ranger Bee Bee,

Peacock Shelton, Squirrel Sprouse, Gabby Johnson, and a host

of docs, to include Doc Adams. Anyone want to try for their

first names? Good luckl

As the Viet Nam war wore on, a new group of names began

popping up like Mad Dog, War Daddy, Gunboat, Jungle Jim and

even Dirty Daly (I had to dress this one up somewhat). I also

remember a fellow on Okinawa we called Head Harris and the name

tells it all as far as describing his physical features. Then

we had Bronco and Rocky Lane who weren't related but were well

known. I guess I could go on and on and so could most SFers.

Nicknames say a lot about an individual or the

6
circumstances that caused it to be used. Sometimes they

say too much.

One area that always intrigued me is the secrecy

surrounding Special Forces. We always had super, highly

classified missions. If you didn't recognize something and

it was classified, you just called it a "spook" operation.

But the operations were not the problem, it was always the

personnel. There were a few who wanted to be viewed as

mysterious, covert and undercover. They carried the secrecy

part much too far.

Bill Moore and I were in one of the clubs on Okinawa

and started walking over to a table. As soon as we got within

three or four feet of the table across from us, the people

sitting there all suddenly stopped talking. After the normal

"hello's" and a short conversation, we left, but we were a

little curious. As soon as we were about 20 feet away they all

put their heads together and started talking rapidly again,

casting glances around in all directions.

Moore and I asked our expert on clandestine operations,

Willie Card, about the incident. Willie simply replied,

"spooks." From then on I had an all-purpose word to explain

everything I didn't understand in Special Forces.

6 3
 THE ELITE

The slogan painted on the spare tire of the company

commander's jeep read, "D Company 1st Special Forces Group,

The Elite of the Professionals."

Though the company received a lot of razzing about the

logo most guys in D Company were proud of it. Not al 1 the

guys were professionals, but D Company had more than any other

company.

When you deployed with an A team to Viet Nam, stability

and confidence in one another was important. The combat

environment required you to put your life and the lives of others

in the hands of competent team members.

D Company had a wealth of good team sergeants like

Flaherty, O'Neill, Klink, Takahara, Schrack, Johnson, McKinney,

Lewis, Standing and these are just a few. They were experienced

and, for the most part, reliable and dependable. To go along

with them the senior NCO's were also excellent like Card,

Patience, Herndon and Murphy. Others like Main, Rebello,

Chiarello, Plater, Dusty Moore, Stephens, Frenchy Thierrault

and Perry were an asset as well.

This wealth of talent in D Company made any team leader

or executive officer feel good, and I know as a junior NCO

I felt good about it. One benefit of deploying as full teams

70
was pre-deployment or pre-mission training. For about

three months prior to deploying, we trained and socialized

as a team. So when the team finally deployed, we all knew

a lot about each other and were well prepared for difficult

si tuations .

Another benefit of pre-deployment training was the

ability to conduct an area assessment long before relieving

a team or moving into a new area. Prior information and knowledge

of the terrain, enemy situation, special requirements, etc.,

made things much easier ... and safer.

Once the Viet Nam war went full blast and troopers received

individual orders, you could hope for the best but expect the

worse when it came to assignments. And all the professionalism

in the world wasn't worth a hoot if, after being assigned, you

didn't ask questions or inquire about the area you were going

to. Assumption has been the downfall of many and the first three

letters of the word aptly describe the person too proud to ask

for information. v
'

Assignments to teams by name took the personal concern

and team concept out of the system. Newly assigned team members

had to prove themselves. It wasn't uncommon for you to walk

into a camp and go out on operation the next day. And the place

that needed to be checked out might be in a wooly-bully area

where no one else wanted to go. If you survived, you were

accepted. If you didn't, tough! It wasn't harsh or insensitive,

just impersonal and the system of replacing personnel helped make

it that way. You never really knew any members on the team

7 I
 .

because of rotation dates, reass gnments and, of course,

i

casualties. It was everyone for themselves.

I hated this attitude and now that I look back I really

appreciate the full-team deployment concept. I also wish

someone would once again use the slogan, "Elite of the

Professionals." After the Viet Nam war, it has real meaning

to me

72
 SLICKIE BOYS

Korea is renowned for its "slickie boys" and no one,

not even Special Forces, is exempt when it comes to getting

ripped off.

The 1st Special Forces held a mountain climbing

course in Korea in preparation for a later joint operation

with the Korean Special Forces. Most operational detachments

were scheduled to attend.

The primary instructor was Sergeant Major Perkins.

If you knew Perk, you also knew he could be straightforward

and blunt.

When we arrived at the site via truck there was Perk

awaiting us, arm in cast. He had run out of rope while

rappelling down the side of a cliff, but he was still in

good spirits. One of the first things he said was, "Look out
"
for the si i cki e boys .

Believe it or not, you can be up 4,000 feet on the top

of a mountain but that won't protect you from ingenious

thieves. There are some in Korea that would make the Japanese

Ninjas gasp in disbelief. If you don't take precautions

your personal belongings will disappear in the night.

One captain didn't take the warning seriously. He

awoke one morning to discover his radio was missing. He

remembered dropping off to sleep with the radio still on,

7 3
 .

but the sound of the music seemed to grow fainter and

fa i n ter

Everyone laughed. Those "slickie boys" were so good

they managed to steal the radio and leave the music.

74
 THE PATRIARCHS

I suppose I do write quite a lot about the club

atmosphere on Okinawa. Probably because it's the hub of

social activity for most unaccompanied Special Forces. I

have many, many memories from there.

I still remember vividly after more than 20 years some

of the scenes and especially the people. The Stag Bar of the

Surfs ide Club attracted many interesting characters. I classify

them in a personal way.

There were the old-timers who I call "patriarchs."

In this category are those who had been in WW II or Korean or

both. They were like overseers, monitoring everything that

went on. I can still see Joe Mancuso, who had a voice like

a foghorn, sitting at the bar. Joe never did order anything,

he just stuck out his hand and the bartender placed another

Budweiser in his grasp; Joe would continue to talk, and could

he tal kl

Sitting next to Joe would be Frenchy Buschong. Frenchy

was always like a grandfather to the young NCO's. He had a

constant smile on his face and always a full glass. Rounding

out the group was my friend Ray Flaherty. He was great company.

Flaherty and I talked to one another in Indian sign language

while we drank together at the club. Someone showed me how

to say, "You speak with forked tongue,," Flaherty really liked

75
that. Even today he recognizes the phrase.

Another patriarch was Gabby Johnson. He could keep

things going for hours telling tales (lies?). Gabby had an

answer for everything except what happened to his teeth. He

was always taking his teeth out and misplacing them. What a

talkerl He didn't get that nickname because he 1 poked like

Gabby Hayes.

Kemmett played the pinball machines from sunup until

sundown. He had a cast on his foot for most of my tour. I

imagine it's off now. Maybe. Les O'Neill would also show up

often. He was like a bear, boisterous but not bothering to

get into any arguments. Pappy Schrack was quiet and protective

of his team members. You could always go to him for advice.

Then we have the younger group of patrons like Stephens,

Pontes and a host of others. At one time or another, most SFers

passed through the doors of the Surfside Club Stag Bar. Most

I mentioned were fixtures in the place; they were always there.

If things got a little dull, Santiago from D Company

would always liven things up with his wild and flashy outfits.

Santiago would appear dressed in white trousers, white shoes,

gold shirt, purple tie and who knows what color jacket. He

took quite a heckling from everyone but remained unperturbed

and just laughed it off. It was a good blend of personalities;

you felt welcome there and were made to feel at home. There's

probably a place just like that in everyone's memory.

76
 THE FIGHTING CHAPLAIN

The 1st Special Forces Group had its share of

celebrities but none was more renown than Father Kovatich,

"The Fighting Chaplain." Father Kovatich had already put

in for his CIB (Combat Infantry Badge) by this time, but

the incident he was most famous for was yet to come.

One of the A teams returning from Viet Nam decided

to spend the weekend in Futenma drinking rather than return

home to their families. Captain Trapp, the detachment commander

showed up minus his enlisted personnel, and the word got out.

Wives called the chaplain and the company sergeant major,

SGM Depuy, and the indignity spread.

Chaplain Kovatich was the Catholic chaplain assigned

to the Group. He sent for Dusty Moore to inquire why he and

the others didn't go straight home after being "down south"

for six months. During the course of the conversation. Dusty

informed the chaplain it was none of his business and left

the office.

The following week the whole group was scheduled

for self defense classes and guess who was the instructor?

You guessed it. Father Kovatich. Guess who was his training

assistant? You guessed right again, Dusty Moore.

Father Kovatich started but demonstrating a few light

jabs and body punches while everyone watched. Dusty waited

77
 .

for his opportunity, and when Father Kovatich wasn't looking,

Dusty loaded up on him and hit him with a hard right hand.

Father Kovatich just staggered a little and then proceeded

to beat Dusty almost to a pulp. Both of Dusty's eyes were

closed; he looked like he'd been in a 15-round match with

Muhammed Al i

Father Kovatich's parting words were, "Next time you

go off island and return, you'd better go straight home."

Sergeant Major Depuy saw Dusty and, feeling sorry he'd been

a part of the whole scheme, gave Dusty three days off to

recuperate. Dusty went home.

Later Dusty discovered Father Kovatich had been a

Golden Gloves champion back in the State of New York,

Father Kovatich also had the distinction of being the only

chaplain given an Article 15 under the UCMJ (Uniformed Code

of Military Justice) for punching out another soldier.

After that, no one gave the chaplain any lip, and

his fame grew.

(Information supplied by Doy McPhail)

70
 SPECIAL FORCES' FINEST

At the height of the counter-insurgency program.

Camp Hardy on Okinav/a became a showplace and focal point

of South East Asia for Special Forces demonstrations.

Occasionally visitors came to watch and review methods,

tactics and established modus operandus put forth by Special

Forces, the experts. Supporting Camp Hardy became an

iniportant part of the overall mission.

On one occasion the Japanese Army Imperial Staff

visited Okinawa to view the demonstration. Things couldn't

have gone worse if planned that way.

The snakes that were set up to be victims for the

mongooses ended up killing all four mongooses. The infiltration

simulation by the Navy SEAL team went off well -- until the

RB-15 boat they were using sprung a leak and sunk, leaving the

frogmen to swim for shore.

The airborne demonstration scheduled by the HALO

(fn'gh altitude, low opening) team looked like a go. Then

one of the smoke grenades attached to one of the jumper's

feet fell and landed in a neighboring field, starting a major

fire. Everyone, including the personnel at Camp Hardy, had

to be called out to fight the fire, leaving only the VIP's

sitting in the stands and the briefing officer with a

microphone in his hand.

7 9
 To top it all off, the briefing officer announced

the arrival of Kennedy's Rifles, an elite drill team from

the 1st Special Forces Group -- "the best soldiers in

Special Forces." When the team marched in front of the

stands, all members were either Specialist Fours or Private

First Classes, leaving the spectators to remark, "If these

are the best in Special Forces, what is the status of the

senior enlisted personnel?"

Needless to say, some heads rolled. I believe Pappy

Nauman, the NCO in charge, was quickly dispatched back to

D Company in Machinato.

(Information provided by Big Al Worak)

8
 Bonafonte, Doc Adams and author
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Waiting for the helicopters
to arrive for operation)

The author
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam
(Just Inspecting the camp)

The author and radioman and LLDB

member
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Let's load up the helicopters)
Mac, the CIDG CO of 328 Company
and the author with other members
L»c Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Dependent housing is the subject

Poxworth and the author

Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam 19 6?
(The team house)

Cambodian bodyguard and the

author
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Fi&ld operations)
Floyd O'Qulnn
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Sure we can stop for chow
next week perhaps)

Floyd O'Qulnn
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(I make a good subject for
a photo)
Allen Carter, Willie Card,
Jack Standing, Ken Hain,
John Tryon(wlth back to camera)
DaNang, Viet Nan 1964
(Awaiting move to Ashau)

Vincent Oconnor and John Tryon

Nha Trang, Viet Nam 196^1
(Just passing the time)

Jack Standing, Ken Haln, John

Tryon, Bill Patience and Bill
Moore DaNang, Viet Nam 196*4
(More time standing around)
John Tryon and author
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(On operations)

The Luc Loung Dae Blet,LLDB

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^1
(Something's up their sleeves)

John Tryon
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^^
(The burglar proof supply room)
The author and Soriano
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Attitude check)

Cassidy the .interpretol? and

LLDB member |[on left side)
Loc Nlnh, Viet Nam I967
(Returning from operations)
Vincent ofeonnor. Medic A-421
Nha Trang, Viet Nam 19 6^4
(Preparing to fly out to DaNang)

Bill Patience, Willie Card,

Gary Jones, CPT Boyd, Ken Haln,
Jack Standing, Nha Trang, Viet
Nam 1964 (Leaving for DaNang)

Bill Patience, Bill Moore, Jim

Monaghan, DaNang, Viet Nam 1964
(Waiting for the rain to stop
so we can leave for AShau)
Chinese Nungs The folding stock carbine and
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 106^^ the Colt AR 15 rifle
(Employed as bodyguards for Camp Ashau, Viet Nairi 196*4
the Americans)
John Tryon
Nha Trang, Viet Nam 196^1
(Outloading to DaNang)

Jack Standing, Harry Chlng

Nha Trang, Viet Nam 196^1
(Outloading to DaNang,

John Tryon and Jim Monaghan

Nha Trang, Viet Nam 196'!
(The Blues Brothers)
Willie Card, Bill Patience
and Bill Moore
Hha Trang, Viet Nam 196^1
COutloadlng for DaNang)

Ken Hain
Nha Trang, Viet Nam 1964
(Outloading to DaNang)

GaryP. Jones
Nha Trang, Viet Nam 196^1
(Outloading for DaNang)
Master Sergeant Takahara and
Major Dover
DaNang, Viet Nam 1964
(What was that last order?)
 Harry Chlng, CO A-421
NhS.Trang, Viet Nam 1964
(Outloadlng for DaNang)

Allan Carter, Harry Chlng,

Willie Card, Jack Standing
DaNang, Viet Nam 1964
(The Chiefs waiting to go out
to Ashau)

Harry Chlng, Willie Card

Jack Standing DaNang, Viet Nam
1964(Waitlng patiently to
fly out to Ashau)
Author and Harry Chlng
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(How do you want It, close
or closer?)
Danny BCvlns and CIDG troopers Danny Bfvlns and CIDG troopers
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^ Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^1
(Australians make friends (If they get through these
everywhere) punjl stakes)

^1^1
General William Westmoreland
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^
(Upon his departure, his plane
got hit by enemy fire and our
strip was placed off limits)

Allan J. Carter, XO A-421

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(Working off a few frustrations

Jim Monaghan, Demo Man A-421

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam
(Local patrol)
Jack Roughly and CIDG trooDers Jack Roughly and CIDG troopers
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^* Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(Just the three of us) (My bosom buddies)
The author and Jim Monaghan
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(My dangerous buddy)

Bill Patience and Harry Chlng

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(See if this will work)

Tippy, Ya Ya, Cookie and his

assistant
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(The Chef and his staff)
 Ken Main Commo Chief A-421
Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 196^
(After a great meal)

The Author, Radio Operator A-^21

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam
(Camp construction)

John Tryon, Demo Man A-421

Camp Ashau, Viet Nam 1964
(Local patrol)
VIET NAM
 .

200 MILES OF BAD ROAD

Special Forces warrant "Special Experiences," and

there were plenty of thoste.

When we deployed to Viet Nam from Okinawa, we had no

idea Ashau valley was so remote. Still, Ashau had a way of

making one feel at home, especially at night.

The team consisted of Captain Ching, Lieutenant Carter,

Master Sergeant Standing, Sergeant First Class Patience,

Sergeant First Class Card, Staff Sergeant Ha in. Sergeants

Jones, O'Connor, Monaghan and Hansard. Rounding out the team

was Specialist Five Try on and Private First Class Moore. I

list them all here because it was a fine team and worth

remember ngi

We ran out of beer one night and someone suggested we

mix some whole grain alcohol with grapefruit juice. We al ways

had grapefruit juice on hand. The medics provided the alcohol

and no one really knows who did the mixing. Whoever it was

didn't mix it enough or, rather, cut it enough.

We also had two Aussies assigned to our camp. Warrant

Officers Bevins and Roughly. Roughly was noted for his ability

to consume anything with the appearance of alcohol, so

naturally he served as the guinea pig. Down it went. When

asked how it was he merely replied, "It's a beauty mate, a

bl oody beauty. "

81
 After that, those not pulling guard on the first

shifts proceeded to wade in on the grog. I went on guard

late that night and was scheduled to be relieved by Roughly

at 0200. I woke him up only to hear the same words, "It's

a beauty mate, a bloody beauty." I waited until he was up

and around and then proceeded to turn in.

I had an early morning weather report to make at 0500

so I started to the commo room and there was Roughly, sitting

in a chair by the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) with not

a stitchon, an Army blanket wrapped around him, and a carbine

rifle between his legs. As I approached he muttered the same

words, "It's a beauty mate, a bloody beauty."

After surviving that episode, no one tried to mix 200

proof whole grain alcohol with anything. We called it 200

miles of bad road. It did a job on all of us, and made a

believer out of Roughly.

82
 TRADING MATERIAL

High on the list of priorities and missions of any

Special Forces A team in I Corps was stealing and trading

the Air Force and U.S. Marines blind. After all, we were the

ones in the bush and they were the fat cats in DaNang. Over

at the Marine compound, they even had double rations!

A common tactic was selling foreign weapons for food.

The secret was to never give the complete weapon to the buyer.

The first trip we would bring the actual weapon. It would be

clean as a whistle and polished to the teeth, usually an AK-47

or PPSH. In trade, we'd clean off the shelves of all the

canned goods.

The second trip would involve the magazines. Without

them, you've got no way to fire the weapon. For those we'd

walk away with a fresh case of meat or even fresh vegetables.

What weapon will fire withoutthe proper ammunition?

This required a third trip and for handing over the ammo, we

took whatever was available. By this time we would have worn

out our welcome.

On one occasion, Jim Monaghan, Bill Moore and I were

at the Air Force mess hall trying to make a deal. The mess

steward was new but he was real irritable and kept giving Jim

a hard time. That didn't phase Jim; he just kept the pressure

up.

8 3
 Finally the mess steward threw up his hands and

said, "You guys are a pain, you never give up. No deals."

Jim calmly said, "C'mon. how about a small weapon, not

a big one, just a small one?" At the time Bill was carrying

a carbine with a folding stock and it was sharp. Jim just

reached over, took it off Bi 1 1

'
s shoul der and gave it to the

mess steward. Bill started to protest but Jim hustled us both

outside with 12 loaves of freshly baked bread in our arms.

Bill Moore had to fly back to Camp Ashau without a

weapon and the Viet Cong were known for shooting at aircraft

headed that way. Jim just looked at Bill and said, "Bill, you

made a wise decision in there. The whole team appreciates

your personal sacrifice." What a diplomat! What could Bill say?

So much for salesmanship.

84
 PRESS ON

When we were at Camp Ashau, we had a sister team from

the 7th Special Forces Group at An Diem. Our home base was

on Okinawa but An Diem and Ashau both came under operational

control of the same B detachment located in Da Nang.

One of the team members at An Diem was Ron Fletcher,

a good friend with a great sense of humor. During one operation

he found himself cut off and receiving fire from all sides.

He called in for help and received some unexpected replies.

The B detachment commander, Major Dover, was one who

loved to coin phrases. He thought he'd make a name for himself

by saying something like "Nuts." After Fletcher explained his

situation he expected to hear that help was on the way, but

instead he heard "Make a bold move."

Fletcher couldn't believe his ears, but he did manage

to get out of the trap ... only to later find himself again on

the run. He made the mistake of calling in again. This time

the response was, "Press on." With help like that, who needs

enemies?

Every time we saw Fletcher after that, we'd holler,

"Make a bold move while you press on." The latter expression

did catch on -- I heard "press on" many times during the course

of the Viet Nam war. Perhaps Major Dover di d make a name

for himself, after all.

85
 JIM

If you know Jim Monaghan, you know he's always into

something. When he and I recently got together after a few

years, he said he was in the midst of filming the movie,

"
"Delta Force." Jim had also appeared briefly in "Wild Geese II

in a scene where he had to strangle anotlier person. Jim told

me he didn't need any directing or coaching for that scene --

it just came naturally.

To know Jim is to really admire him, but at a distance,

for throughout my association with him I've found myself in hot

water more times than I'd like to remember.

When we served together at Camp Ashau in Viet Nam,

Jim accompanied me down to the small arms range and nearly

killed me when the bolt on his BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle)

surged forward. During that same tour, Jim personally instructed

me on how to blow a drainage ditch with dynamite, extra amounts

no doubt, and by priming it from both ends. He sent rocks sky

high and a large number of them fell on our new aluminum roofing.

I barely survived. After that the team leader. Captain Ching,

grounded Jim.

Space is not sufficient to write all the stories about

occasions when he and I barely managed to escape the long arm

of the law. When Jim Monaghan is around, everything is

uncerta i n

06
 .

Like the time he left me in Saigon overnight

and promised to pick me up early in the morning. I wound

up catching a log truck to make it back by 0600 formation

at the C detachment in Bien Hoa. Another time Jim had me

drive a getaway jeep down Due Lop Street following an altercation

and shootout with a bar owner. A third time I found myself

recruited as a prime witness for a problem with the Military

Pol i ce on Oki nawa

Through it all, Jim remains a good friend and a true

SFer. (I've learned to put up my guard and remain cautious

when Jim starts to ask what I've done for my country today.)

It was Jim who set up the first burgular proof system at Camp

Ashau .

The indigenous troops were stealing us blind, so Captain

Ching told Jim to put a good lock on the supply room. After

sizing up the situation, Jim decided a good lock was not

good enough. He took it upon himself to improve the security.

He took a blasting cap and rigged it to go off if anyone tried

to open the supply room door, regardless of having a key or not.

Then Jim graciously informed everyone on the team to stay

away from the door because it was boobytrapped .

The next day the team members out on operation came

in from the field. They had just grabbed a cold beer and

settled back for the debriefing when we all heard a loud

"pop." There at the supply room door stood John Tryon,

Jim's best buddy (former?), face peppered with pieces of

blasting cap. All he kept hollering was "Monaghanl"

87
 Fortunately none of the blasting cap particles got

into John's eyes and he healed quickly.

I wonder if Jim is also responsible for the pyrotechnics

and explosive scenes on the movie set? Look out, HollywoodI

8 8
 ROLL WITH THE PUNCH

There's a saying in Special Forces, "Roll with the

punch," and it's a good one.

When our team deployed to Viet Nam, our team leader

was Captain Harry L.F. Ching, a steady and dependable team

commander. If there was one single outstanding quality about

Captain Ching, it was that of patience, which the antics of

our team called upon him to constantly display.

Because of his middle initials, Captain Ching acquired

the nickname of "Light Foot." Indeed, he did have a distinct

gait when he walked and he was quick and light on his feet.

In fact, some 20 years later I saw his son, Harry, Jr., at a

distance and recognized him long before I saw his name tape.

Hgredity has a way of showing.

Captain Ching liked things to go smoothly; he hated

a lot of dissension and hassle. Ching, Bill Moore and myself

were the only team members without previous experience in

Laos or Viet Nam, so we three had to take our cues from the

veterans on the team.

Those veterans at first thought Captain Ching was

a little rigid and too stiff. They wondered when he'd

loosen up. But after three months of predepl oymen t training

together as a team. Captain Ching was still the same, like a

rock, and they were still wondering. Not to say Ching wasn't

8 9
friendly or easy to get along with, just that he set his

standards and they stayed firm right down the line.

The team deployed to Viet Nam from Okinawa and Captain

Ching had the first test of his patience under fire. First,

the rainy season set in with no food or prospects of getting

any. The living quarters were lousy and the troops poorly

trained. Morale hit an all-time low when General Westmoreland's

plane was hit by enemy fire while leaving our camp. The airstrip

became off-limits until further notice.

Captain Ching did not drink, unless, perhaps, an

occasional beer after a long day or with a meal. There was an

ice chest filled with beer; we marked a stroke by our names

for the beers consumed and paid the tab at the end of the month.

Suddenly a few strokes began to appear after Captain Ching's

name. In fact, it was noted that Captain Ching even shouted

one night, "I'm in the barrel, who wants one?" We all laughed,

wondered about the change, but held our silence. After all,

Ashau will do that to you.

Finally, someone jokingly asked Captain Ching about

the beer. "Sir, I see a few strokes behind your name."

Captain Ching laughed while adding an additional mark,

"I'm way behind you guys, but just give me a little time, I'll

catch up."

Captain Ching remained the steady force for our team,

but sometime during our tour in Ashau he di d catch up.

90
 UNCLE BOB

During the early years in Viet Nam, an A team relied

heavily on radio communications with their 8 team. The most

important transmission of the day was the Whiskey Xray (WX),

the 0500 weather report.

All the A teams in I Corps, Khe Shanh, Ashau, An Diem,

Nam Dong, Kham Due and Gia Vuc depended on aircraft for supplies

and mobility. So your weather report would always read

unlimited visibility, 15,000 ceiling, excellent runway

conditions, and you'd be lying through your teeth.' Ves, n^.ost

of the time you had to lie. It could be raining cats and doos

outside but your weather report told another story. Otherwise

your supplies would rot on the strip in Da Nang.

For that's where they were -- v-e had a team member

hustling food and supplies round the clock in Da Nana.

The Air Force used the Whiskey Xray to decide where to send

their aircraft. We'd get then in the air and flying in our

direction and then talk them down if the camp was socked in.

Too often the Air Force went strictly by the book, but during

this period of time the U.S. Army also had aircraft and we

used them to the maximum. If an L-19 or L-20 was going out

on a VR (visual recon) we'd ask them to deliver the nail or

carry it out for us. Some of the pilots were so scared of

getting hit, they'd ask for a panel to mark a spot on the

runway and drop the mail sack without touching down.

91
 It v/as an army pilot v/ho saved us from starvation.

Uncle Bob. Don't ask what his real name is; I don't think anyone

really ever knev/. All we knew was that General VJestmorel and

put our camp, Ashau, off-limits indefinitely and the only

aircraft that would fly in was Uncle Bob in his Caribou.

He paid no attention to off-limits or weather reports. 'we'd

hear the sound of aircraft, get on the radio, and there was

Uncle Bob, our guardian angel. He'd start by saying he had

some live ones (cattle), squawkers (chickens), some little

people (Vietnamese troops) and some fan mail (letters).

We'd be socked in -- you couldn't see a thing for the thick fog

-- and we'd talk Uncle Bob down. There'd be a loud thump,

reverse of props and Uncle Bob would say, "I'm on the runway.

Come and get it."

Uncle Bob, in his inevitable T-shirt and flak jacket,

was so elated when he got a new Caribou with reverse props

that he made a special trip out to Ashau just to show it off.

No one came out to Ashau unless they had to 1

I don't know if all the camps in I Corps received

the same service we did at Ashau, but Uncle Bob stood at the

top of our' list of good people. Later the Air Force took

over control of all Caribou aircraft. Wherever Uncle Bob went,

I'm sure he's still flying something.

It's a little late, more than 20 years, but wherever

you are Uncle Bob, thanks for everything.

92
 THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM

About four teams were returning to Okinawa from

six month tours to Viet Nam. All of us were assembled at

the Natique Club in Nha Trang for a final blowout before

leaving the following day. Everyone chipped in and bought

several cases of beer. We had them iced down in two 55 gallon

garbage cans.

About eight o'clock in the evening. Master Sergeant Billy

Waugh approached Captain Allen Carter (newly promoted) and

myself, saying he was going to settle a long dispute with one

of his team members. Private First Class Coppinger. About ten

minutes later, Billy and his young adversary are duking it out.

Coppiinger lands a hard solid blow which knocks Billy senseless.

A couple of SFers rush in, stop the fight and Billy staggers

back to some chairs and collapses.

After 15 minutes pass, Billy says, "I want a rematch.

I can't believe that really happened." Back into the hotel

goes Billy and out he comes with Coppinger again. This time

the fight is vicious. A few punches later Billy is once again

on his rear and once again someone stops the fight. Billy

sticks his head in one of the garbage cans of ice water and

says, "I must be losing my punch" In the course of the

conversation. Captain Carter reminds Billy that Master

Sergeants don't go around fighting Private First Classes,

even in Special Forces.

93
 An hour later Billy is out looking for Coppinger

for a third try. This time Coppinger is no v;here to be found,

The next morning Billy's face looks like raw hamburger

when we board the C-124 aircraft back to Okinawa. The mood

was light. Laughter fluttered through the plane; everyone

was looking forward to getting home.

Billy whispers to a guy next to him, "Last night was

a fluke. I want a sober rematch with Coppinger."

I bent over and responded, "Please wait until we get

back to Okinawa. VJe couldn't stand any extra tussle or blood

flowing on this aircraft."

I often wonder if he did get his wish. I've seen

both of them over the years; neither ever mentioned it again.

94
 THE LLDB

No tour In Viet Nam would be complete without mention

of dur counterparts 5 the LucLuong Dae Biet (LLDB), otherwise

known as the Vietnamese Special Forces.

The LLDB was sharp and, I have to give it to them,

they usually had something up their sleeves when it came to

money or supplies. I often wonder what my attitude would

have been in their shoes. They were fighting a no-win war

for the duration. At least we^ had a rotation date.

The LLDB had to get as much as they could while they

could. There are numerous reports of lack of cooperation

and reluctance to participate on combat operations. Some of

this is true. There was a certain amount of animosity and

disgust when dealing with the LLDB.

One incident stands out in my mind. When I arrived

at Loc Ninh as XO of the team, I was also the funds officer.

This pieaht'I paid for everything including the biggest

headache, the troop payroll. The LLDB had a "Phanthom Company'

on the payroll, but not in camp. On payday they'd go down

and hustle up some young boys, bringing them in to get paid.

The boys would give half of the money to the LLDB and then

disappear until next payday. Nice job, huh? We always had

a problem trying to field two full companies for operations,

even though our personnel strength figure showed differently.

9 5
 We finally set a trap. All entrances and exits to

the camp were secured the night before payday: no one was

allowed in or out. The following day we paid only those

present For duty and crossed off the remaining names.

There was a large congregation of people outside the

gate weeping and gnashing their teeth. Sorry about that.

They say "sin loi" in Vietnamese.

The rip-off ceased in this area, but you can believe

the LLDB was busy finding other ways to put one over. If

they put as much effort into legitimate ventures instead of

illegal ones, most of them would be wealthy by now.

96
 RAT PATROL

Living together on an A team in a combat environment,

each individual often must sacrifice personal habits and

desires for the good of the team. But there are some likes

and dislikes everyone agrees with.

Not only was a team in conflict with the enemy, but

there was another common enemy that was detested and hated

almost as much as the one who shot at you. The camp rodent,

the ever present rat. On this subject, as a team we all agreed,

we hated them.

One camp was so infested with rats you had to hang up

your mosquito net and tuck it under your mattress for fear

of the furry creatures crawling in bed with you. If you woke

during the night, you'd see them crawling on the mosquito net

like tightwire walkers, glaring in your direction.

It was just my good fortune to be assigned my last

three months of another tour to Camp Chi Linh in III Corps.

When I arrived, the team leader. Captain Jackson, and the

team sergeant, Master Sergeant Kunert, gave me a quick briefing.

Since they were short of personnel, I immediately went on the

roster for field operations and the night radio watch.

When I was shown my sleeping quarters there was one

thing on my mind -- rats. Here was a camp tailor-made for

the creatures. Conex containers underground served as

sleeping quarters, an ideal situation for breeding droves

9 7
of rats. And it clidl I knew I was in for a rough time.

After confirming I had a good mosquito net with no

holes, I lay down to sleep on my back with my hands folded

across my chest. Hands falling outside the bed make good

chewing for the furry ones. I noticed in the morning my junqle

boots were all scuffed; they had heavy polish on them to

prevent jungle rot. I quickly discovered that rats love

shoe polish. They'd eat it off my boots while I slept. So

after that I put my boots in bed with me or, if there was

room, in my foot locker.

When my name came up to pull radio watch at night, I

noticed 15-20 rounds of ammunition with the lead portion

removed from the head and filled with wax. That's how I

discovered my additional duty as "Rat Patrol." Not only was I

to maintain the radio watch at night, but also to shoot rats

that raided the kitchen. Head (rat) counts were taken every

morning; this was serious business. A few rats could deplete

your entire food stock in a hurry.

Now that was my kind of personal warl I finally had

a chance to get back. I probably kept better watch on the

rats than on the radio.

When I was scheduled for reassignment to the states,

my departure was delayed because of the Tet Offensive. One

night I heard that a Dust Off (medical evacuation helicopter)

was needed out at Chi Linh. Since I knew the whole team,

I headed down to the helipad to see who was brought in and why.

90
The injured team member was Tussey, the engineer, and he

had been bitten by a rat. It wasn't serious but I couldn't

help but ask myself, "With the NVA and Viet Cong going

crazy during the Tet Offensive, did we also have a rat

uprising on our hands? "

9 13
 PRESENT ARMS

While in South Viet Nam, the 5th Special Forces Group

published a monthly magazi ne with news clippings and stories

from all four military regions and combat zones as well as

the special projects that came under control of the group.

This magazine featured Special Forces personnel who had

received promotions, awards and decorations. Each month it

also highlighted an A team from each of the four zones.

The magazine was actually put together and printed in

Okinawa. That meant it was necessary for someone to shuttle

back and forth between Viet Nam and Okinawa on a monthly

basi s .

One of the great meeting spots on Okinawa was the

American Legion in Sukiran. It was here that news of the war

in Viet Nam was passed along. And it was here that old

friendships were joyfully renewed.

On this occasion Sergeant First Class Peter Potter was

tasked with getting the magazine out. Before he tried to

put it together he decided to stop off at the Legion for a

couple of cold ones and a few laughs. Well, by the time Potter

left the Legion, he had a rush job on his hands. The magazine

was hurriedly printed, coalated and shipped to Viet Nam.

Unfortunately, one thing wrong stood out and stared,

uh, saluted at you. The negative for a front cover photo of

1
General William Westmoreland, the commander of all forces in

Viet Nam, was reversed. He was not saluting with his right

hand, but with his left.

Command Sergeant Major Dunaway, the 5th Special Forces

Group sergeant major, was livid. He had to be restrained

and calmed down. But in the meantime, Sergeant First Class

Potter was ordered to remain on Okinawa a few more days

until things cooled off. That was one time when a boo-boo

did have its benefits.

1 1
 COOKIE

Say what you will about the SF cooks in Viet Nam,

I'll defend them with my last breath.

They did a terrific job serving our A team at Camp

Ashau. I never did know the cook's real name -- we just called

him Cookie. His assistant was called Yah Yah because that's

what he said when you asked him about anything.

Tippy, the only real name I remember, belonged to our

laundry and house man. Come to think of it, that probably

wasn' t real ei^ther , but he sure was super.

Back to the cook, what other person could take one can

of salmon, a few potatoes and some slightly rotten onions and

feed an entire A team? Please, let's not mention the biblical

account of the five loaves of bread and five fishes feeding

the multitudes. Our cooks may not have been that good, but

he certainly performed miracles on more than one occasion.

It was not at all uncommon for the A team to run

completely out of food, be socked in by the weather so no

aircraft could get in or out, have no contact nearby from

which to scrounge, and no money or credit to buy food. Where

did they turn?

Of course, to Cookie, the one person who could save

them. Cookie could negotiate with the indigenous mess hall

and keep us from starvation for awhile. Or he could find some

C-rations or field rations and turn them into a few meals

1 U 2
(just barely). When all this failed and his resources

seemed exhausted, no one asked what we were eating and where it

came from. You just ate it.

I can't remember any person who received more abuse

than the cook. He was responsible for feeding an ungrateful

bunch of guys three times a day and trying to keep them happy.

What a jobi When members of the team came in from the field,

the first thing they asked for after Lheir mail was a good,

hot meal and no excuses. And the detachment cook was a master

of expediency, because often J2e^ didn't know what was on the

menu right up to chow time.

So no matter what compl aints and stories I hear about

the cooks in Viet Nam, we in Special Forces had the best.

They served us well. Just don't send off to Viet Nam and ask

for any of those old recipes.

1 3
 "C"-DAY

When I was stationed in Korea, I heard some wild stories

about "C" Day (Conversion Day). This was the day the U.S.

Government converted their old money into new bills. After

the conversion, the old bills would be worthless.

Since all Americans, especially military personnel,

had to use script money, the details surrounding the time and

date of conversion had to be kept a secret. (Script was the

substitute money used in Korea and other areas instead of

greenback or legal tender used stateside.)

Secrecy was very important and as the day drew close,

many Koreans who had accumulated large sums of script through

black market activities began to get nervous. And bar owners,

who hoarded large amounts of script, were worried. In essence,

"C" Day not only provided new money, but also served a dual

purpose in discouraging those who were not authorized to have

script from trying to hoard large amounts. There are stories

of Koreans throwing large rolls of script over the fence with

notes attached asking the person finding the roll to exchange

it for half of its value.

No doubt "C" Day was a very busy day, which leads me

to the "C" Day in Viet Nam. For months rumors had circulated

that there would soon be a conversion of all script in Viet Nam.

Downtown in Saigon and Bien Hoa this was the topic of conversation

among all the bar owners.

1 4
 In order to carry out the actual conversion, pay officers

were dispatched by helicopter to ewery Special Forces site or

camp to exchange money on the spot. Those who were out on

operations or absent for some other reason were told in advance

to leave their money with the individual in charge. This was

to be a one-day operation.

Sergeant Major Ben(Jaw) Taylor of C detachment at Bien

Hoa told me about an SFer who took the bar owners to the

cleaners. It seems one morning a delegation of bar owners

out
appeared at the gate crying their eyes/ Some SF ripoff artist

had taken advantage of them. They'd recognize him -- he was

wearing a green beret.

Anxious hands displayed the counterfeit money to be

greeted by volleys of laughter. Guess what this SFer had used?

Good old monopoly game money. And to think we had stacks of

monopoly games gathering dust in the team house.

So much for Yankee ingenuity.

1
 KASAVUBU

I'd be reniissed if I didn't mention a short story from

CCN (Command and Control North) located in Danang, Viet Nam.

When I first arrived in the country I'd put in for assignment

there, but my request was denied.

After five months in Chu Lai with another SF detachment,

my request was suddenly resurrected and I was ordered to report

to CCN of SOG (Special Operations Group). They were supposedly

short-handed and needed personnel. The way it was said,

"short-handed," made me very suspicious and wary. I knew

one thing. My tour was almost half over and I wasn't about

to make them further "short-handed."

When I reported in at the admin office the adjutant

must have thought he had some fresh bait or a new fool.

The first question was, "How would you like to run recon?"

I just looked back at him and replied, "How would you

like to?" Then I caught myself and just laughed. You had

to develop a sense of humor to survive in this confusion and

expansion that was Special Forces, and this was my third tour.

SF ruined our whole system by assigning dummies like these

to admin slots. I smiled and said, "When do you leave? I'd

like your job." That adjutant must have been a longtimer.

His face turned red and he started shuffling paper and holding

onto his desk like I was going to steal it. Finally, when

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 )

he was assured he didn't have another sucker, I was assigned

to Security Company.

When I walked through the compound, I was a little

relieved to see some old familiar faces. There was Sergeant

Major Hobbs and his right hand man, Clarence Dover. I used to

tell Clarence that with half a foot missing he should only pay

half price for a pair of shoes. Jack Frost and Finzel were

there along with Nelson Smith at the medical facility. Joe

Pillow was the sergeant major of the whole outfit. There was

Major Bill Angel and Major (Speedy) Caspar was operations

officer. In the snack shack I ran into Daly. He used to be

the motor pool sergeant on Okinawa years before but now they

called him Dirty Daly the Recon Man. What a switchl

The person I remember most was Robert Eli. He was an

old friend and he, too, had learned the hard way not to volunteer

for the hero act or try to win the war single-handed. Eli's

room was the meeting place for everything: card playing (for

money or fun), late-night snacks and just plain good old

conversation.

Eli used to cook up a batch of ribs and chicken on the

beach outside the compound and invite everyone. He'd wear

his African daishiki while he cooked. He claimed he had a

secret barbecue recipe handed down to him from his father

which dated back to pre-slavery days in Africa. (Alex Haley eat

your heart out I

One day a new replacement walked into the compound,

spotted Eli, and called out, "Kasavubu." We were all puzzled

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until we found out Eli used to work on the Branch Training

Committee at Ft. Bragg and his name as "G" chief or guerilla

chief for the field exercise was Kasavubu. The students

were so successfully indoctrinated they actually thought it

was his real name.

From then on we all started calling Eli "Kasavubu"

and you should have seen him, he really played the part.

After all that "roots" stuff Eli put out, we couldn't resist

calling him by his African name.

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 IN STEP WITH STYLE

There was serious business at CCC (Command and Control

Central) in Kontum, but there were still moments of fun as well

Whenever an individual went on R&R (rest and relaxation)

from CCC, he took along with him numerous requests from others

who wanted items brought back. R&R sites like Hong Kong,

Bangkok, Tokyo and Australia were popular and items from these

locations were in demand. Rolex watches, bronzeware, cameras,

star sapphires, gold chains and rings and elephant stands

were among the more popular items.

The new XO, Major Smith, decided to order a walking

suit. They had recently come into high style. He didn't take

into account the size of his body. Even more glaring, he

purchased a white one.

When Major Smith walked into the officer's club

there was utter silence ... until he left. We all fell out

laughing. One of the guys noted his resemblance to Bwana

Jim, the Great White Hunter. Another compared him favorably

to Jonathon Winters doing a commercial for a garbage bag

company.

But the best description came from Willie Merkerson

who somewhat disappointedly said, "I thought he was the

vendor for the Good Humor ice cream concession."

We all rolled with laughter.

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 A NAME IS A NAME

Working with indigenous troops in Viet Nam was a bit

hectic and there was no way most of us could pronounce their

names or call them by their proper names. Most had names

like Tran Van Due, Nguyen Van Hoa and Hoang Quoc.

To get things done and maintain a good working

relationship, we simply substituted English names for the

Vietnamese ones. Hence, they became Sam, Joe, Mac and Freddie.

Or Larry, Shemp, Moe and Curly. Regardless of their names,

they were good troops and usually did their best under the

ci rcumstances .

When I was at Loc Ninh, going out on operations with

a team member named O'Quinn was a sure guarantee that you'd

make contact. I always took along extra rations and ammunition

and started some extra adrenalin flowing. O'Quinn had a knack

for finding the enemy ... or they had a knack for finding him.

You were luckyto get through the gate without running into

trouble. Everyone kidded O'Quinn about it and he admitted he

had a very special gift (probably curse) for locating the enemy

When briefings took place just prior to an actual

operation, we'd shout for Mac, the CIDG company commander, and

maybe Cassidy, the interpreter. It was all impersonal, but

things did have to be coordinated. And if we were scheduled

to take an operation in one of those hairy areas like Fish

llO
Hook, I always tried to take the best troops and lay on

maximum air and artillery support. You would most likely

need it.

The Cambodians in camp made up three of our companies

and they were reliable and good cooks in the field. In fact,

they were always cooking. You'd get about two hours underway

and they'd want to stop and eat. O'Quinn would be furious.

After Viet Nam I wondered if we hadn't lumped the

Vietnamese together and depersonalized them by giving them

our names instead of trying to learn how to use their given

names .

A few years ago I attended a Special Forces Association

picnic. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned

around I heard, "Hey Dai-uy, remember me, Bobby from CCC?"

I almost passed out -- there stood one of our interpretors.

He had made it out on a refugee raft.

We laughed and talked. Not only had he been sponsored

by one of the former SFers, but it was his name that had led

to locating the sponsor. Retaining the name had proven a

lifesaver for him. Bobby was happy to be among his old

comrades and friends and I feel much better about the name

substitution now. That's a fitting end to any good story.

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 DETAIL REPORTING

At 5th Special Forces Group headquarters in Nha Trang,

South Viet Nam, all new incoming personnel had to take ambush

training with detachment A-501 . The third day after your

arrival a roster would appear with your name on it assigning

you to a patrol leader. Patrols consisted of eight or nine

men.

Command Sergeant Major Pioletti was the group sergeant

major and he was a real pain. Everything had to be written

down to the wery last detail. Every morning Pioletti would

place a folder of all reports and nightly activity from these

ambushes on the group commander's (Colonel McKean) desk.

Most reports consisted of accounts of riverboats

being stopped for suspected Viet Cong activity. One amusing

report filed by Sergeant First Class Larry Pease, read:

1947 hours - Departed the AO (Area of operation)

1952 hours - Sighted riverboat with no lights
1953 hours - Interpreter calls for boat to stop
1954 hours - Boat does not stop
1955 hours - Interpreter calls again for boat to stop
1956 hours - Boat does not stop
1957 hours - Patrol fires 57 recoiless rifle into boat
1958 hours - Boat stops

(Information provided by Guy Bianco)

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 PROMOTION

Promotion to Sergeant Major in the United States Army

is the highest rank that an enlisted man can attain. Just

being considered for promotion is an honor and quite an

achievement .

The 5th Special Forces Group in South Viet Nam held

a promotion board to Sergeant Major in Nha Trang. One of

those considered and ordered to appear before the board was

Master Sergeant Billy Waugh.

Before making his appearance before the board, Billy

Waugh first appeared at the club to get some liquid wisdom

and courage. By the time the board convened, Billy was blind

drunk. Disoriented, he staggered into the room to report to

the OIC (Off icer-in-Charge) . He mistakenly reported to the

clerk on the board, then proceeded to pass out.

All of this must not have made a favorable impression on

the board ... Bi 1 ly didn't get promoted this time. But the

widely-circulated incident produced a few chuckles throughout

Special Forces. And from that time on, those who were scheduled

to appear before promotion boards were kept well away from

the group watering hole, the club.

(Information supplied by Pappy Reese)

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