LISTENING
POST:
Hue
Phubai 1966
The
preparation was easy. Grab your rifle some C-rations, water and a radio
for communication,
Two Marines heading for the infamous tower LP.
The Tower was an old cement edifice built by the French during their ass
kicking in Vietnam.
It was a ways out from the base camp in the jungle surrounding Phubai.
The tower stuck up in
the air like a broken thumb after a hammer slammin'. It was located in
the center of a small clearing in the bush. Once we climbed into the
tower there would be no way down or out after dark. The steps leading up
to the top of the tower were all but blown away, the sides of the
building were riddled with bullet holes, by the looks it contained holes
from every caliber weapon
Known to man, a regular Alamo. Sam Huston would have Said piss on this
fort
let em' have it,
it ain't worth it. Get my drift? Many a skirmish had taken place here,
as I said no way out,
no way down, once inside the tower. After O'dark thirty, you wouldn't
want to leave anyway.
At this time in my tour I was about a month into hell. To tell you the
absolute truth I didn't
feature putting my ass out on the line for Charley to shoot off.
Unfortunately Choice was not
mine and my opinion held about as much water as a whale with a
degenerating sphincter disease.
At any rate, we were there to listen for enemy ambush patrols, probes or
anything out of the
ordinary. Every sound in the jungle meant sumthin' and no sound in the
jungle meant everything.
I suppose that this was one of the loneliest experiences I had while in
the Nam. It was as
though we were hung out to dry. I could compare it to fish bait but
these weren't Red Snappers
we were trying to catch, Red Chinese maybe. Had any Vietcong forces
entered the area we would
not have been able to fight our way out. Help was out of the question,
although mortar fire
could be called in if needed, but in essence we were expendable. We were
there for one purpose
and that was to warn the front lines “Semper
Fidelis”...
The
jungle was full of sounds, War raged on around us. Willy peter lit up
portions of the sky
with white flashes in the distance. Rifle shots echoed through the thick
night air.
It sounded as though an ambush had been sprung; we hoped that it was our
ambush on Charley
taking it's toll and not the other way around. We held our breath and
prayed that the jungle
noise would pick up again.
Radio
silence is a must, unless needed of course, God if we do make contact,
let the radio work.
as
long as the sounds of war go on around us we feel a little less alone.
Strange,
yet it took our minds off our deep shit situation and at the same time
sharpened our senses.
Silence
before dawn.
The
radio squelches,
LP
come home,
Make
your way to the Cover of the canopy.
Another
night in the tower,
another
day in the Nam.
|