My 21st Birthday

a short bio of a tough time growing up

“Twenty Four hour guard duty on my birthday?”

“It just fell that way.”

said Colonel Blay

“...and you’re Sergeant of the Guard.”

[I thought fast]

“I’d like to request a mad minute, Sir”

[might as well make it memorable]  

.... I had no idea

“It’s been weeks, so 

that’s OK.”

said Colonel Blay

 

Five bunkers - 14 clerks and jerks

and me 

fall out at 1700 hours.

Thirty minutes to draw

gear, weapons, double ammo

from supply

I watch everyone clean weapons 

No short-cuts

I draw a 45 cal. hand gun

an M79 grenade launcher

and my favorite...

Browning M2 .50 caliber machine gun

belt fed, air cooled with 

Navy-mount spade grips and trigger

flash suppressor 

a spare barrel assembly and

a crank style traversing and elevating mechanism

Two steel boxes of ammo belt with 

red tracers every 10th round.

Going to have Fireworks tonight!

 

Duece and a half with troop seats loaded heavy 

fires up with a cloud of smoke.

I push it up into granny low and pull out

Thump! Thump! “Yelp! Yelp!”

“Sarg! You ran over Yipper!”

S**t!  S**t!  S**t!

I shut down, pull brake, and jump out

as Colonel Blay steps out of his SEAhut,

mad.

Fourteen soldiers strangely silent.

This little round dog was a gift 

from an ARVN officer.  

Everyone knew Yipper.

A loaded 2 1/2 ton truck just 

crushed it’s hindquarters

“He can’t be saved”

said Colonel Blay

“Permission to fire one round 

in company area, Sergeant.”

I’m sick but can’t show it.

I judge the angle for ricochet

aim my M-16

BAMM, BAMM, BAMM!!

DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!

I’d left it on semi-automatic

and got off a 3 round burst!

two to the head

third to the ground

Colonel Blay

looked away

A small crowd has gathered

shiny shoes, big eyes, pressed seams

“Specialist Hess, 

remove this mess”

(hurray for names on shirts!)

No one said a word 

I climbed back in the cab

I snarled to stay in character

Wishing for a Pall Mall

Later

 

Four bunkers

Count boxes of ammo

Check batteries and channels in PRC 25 radios

(lovingly called “Prick 25’s)

Juggle Colonel’s list to let friends be together

Load very tired boys coming off duty

Finally to my bunker 

Review previous SOG log

and give him the keys

Call HQ and start my log entries

 

Five bunkers dug into the side of a curving hill

Center is command bunker and I can’t see around

the curve to the furthest bunkers in my sector

In front of us is muddy abandoned rice paddies 

down a 200 ft. wide valley with gentle sloping hill beyond

A 30 ft. wide perimeter with trip flares, mines, 

razor concertina, and  gas canisters. 

The hill beyond is covered with 1,000 year old grave sites

Each a masonry “boat” with offering niches in raised bows

Perfect cover for enemy

Buddy Morris smiles and hands me a folded brown paper

“We took up a collection, Sarg.”

Three perfectly rolled thai sticks! Oh wow.

Now I could cry.

I take my first personal inventory.

I have thick black blood on and in the barrel of my 16 

and spots on my face and clothes. 

30 minutes cleaning and re-cleaning

I make a nest for me

sand bags arranged to make a lounge chair on top 

with low wall both sides and in front of me 

just my head above

with my .50 caliber barrel poking out front 

free to sweep

sun is setting and I make my first hourly commo check

everyone answers with password

I tell two to turn down their radios and 

remind them of the rules:

two awake at all times

commo checks random and logged

gas masks in arms reach

cigarettes behind cover only

[they’re a sniper target]

I’ll call the mad minute unannounced.

patrols start coming in

foot patrols don’t come through my sector

three hueys low and close

happy to be back

arms waving out the sides

one with Jimmy Hendrix “Are you Experienced?” Blaring

Two more Hueys

Two Cobras back from some support mission

tip up, circle, and unload some .50 cal rounds and one rocket into

a few graves to expend their ammo

Flashes and smoke in the sunset

A birthday hurrah!

 

A small sliver of moon reflects off the paddies

rats jump and splash

“Morris, throw out some bread!”

[mess hall gave us a loaf of bread to try 

to keep the rats off our bunkers]

I oil my T & E mechanism and crank the .50 

from side to side with a little clicking sound

set my .45 flat on bag beside me and lay 

the sticks in a row

an apple from my pocket to last all night

This isn’t so bad

... except for Yipper.

I pull out my coverless copy of 

Asimov’s “Pebble in the Sky” and read 

one paragraph and look up

one paragraph and look up

PRC clicks and I slip on headphone

orange alert!.. one incoming Huey reported 

some activity 2 klicks out

Damn

I do commo check and spread the news

I raise my night vision binoculars

fully aware that a glint of reflection could make me a target

I see nothing extraordinary

commo check it’s almost midnight 

and my 21st Birthday!

 

On the PRC

“Mad minute in 60 seconds!”

I know they’ve been waiting.

5-4-3-2-1

I open up  the .50 and every weapon explodes

I crank the T & E and my stream flows across the hill

Morris drops a grenade in the launcher

sets it on his hip and grins up at me

Thunk...whisss

right beside a grave

I hear 16 clips being ejected and slammed in

the noise is unimaginable

memorable

the explosions go on and on

my .50 tip begins to glow hot and I stop

15 more seconds

I empty my .45 toward the rats 

Morris hands me the M79 and I launch one grenade

it follows a high arc and is a direct hit inside a grave!

Time’s up... a few sputtered rounds from #4 and it’s over

back on the PRC

“set up your ammo right now”

Heavy breathing

excitement

ears adjusting back to quiet

something’s burning in front of #2

 

I sit back

“Morris, I’m leaving the building”

“I’m on it Sarge. Sweet dreams.”

Morris doesn’t mind being inside.

I prefer the stars as I light up.

I’m so alone.  I could die before I wake.

I crunch my apple and chew slow

The stars are clear and big 

in this country without electricity.

I feel a little dizzy as I light the second joint.

 

“Sarg, wake up!”

#3 missed the last commo check, 

but I can see they’re asleep.

I just got the 30 minutes-till-meal call”

It’s early light and I’ve been out for hours.

My brain is fuzzy

I feel a warm pressure on my lap

Instant fear-driven adrenalin 

hits like a hammer

A rat is curled in a ball sleeping in my lap!

I instantly began to sweat and sit very still

my feet asleep and tingling

I decide to leap

I come straight up out of 

my rooftop custom birthday pit 

with a rat flying

Morris speaks up,

“We ran out of bread hours ago.”

I gather my wits and give Morris his orders

“Go behind the berm.

Throw a rock, don’t walk up on them.  

Tell them I’m pissed.  

Get back before Breakfast.”

 

So... now I am twenty one.

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Dear papaed,

Okay. Well, you make us see it, hear it, feel it. You make us live it. That's good writing. Indeed, I almost forget the writing as I'm moving through this piece, becoming enthralled with the story. Kudos. Nicely done. And thanks again for service to our country.

Best regards,

Rick

[Nick Erickson]

This is a very well written memory of your 21st birthday. I like the flow and imagery, taking the reader to where you were, though I don't even pretend to know what it felt like, but I could see the scene.
Hats off to you for serving your country in a country so far from ours. I always feel like an imposter when I'm with Veterans as I simply served in the first Bush war going in circles off the coast.
Thanks for sharing this memory with us.

[Robert Luna]

Very interesting read and so capturing at the same time. I started reading And could not stop until the end. You paint such a colorful image here that was wonderful to take part in.


Great Job!!!!

[papaed]

thank you Tammy. I carry too many such things around. writing helps to release any suppressed feelings.

papa ed

[TL Boehm]

OMG Buff was right about your military themed posts. The way this is written reminds me of gunfire, chaos and that shaking fear one cannot show in the face of a crisis. War juxtaposed with personal reality, turning 21. The snapshot moments - cigarettes and killing a pet. Scenes forever frozen I assume in your psyche and now on the screen. Profound writing.