Still In Saigon (IC)

[Kernan]

It is 1965 and America is in another Asian war. Communist North Vietnam has been supporting a Communist Viet Cong in Democratic(ish) South Vietnam, supported by the United States. SInce the start of the Cold War and the division of Vietnam at the 17th Parallel the US has been supporting the South Vietnamese against the VC and North Vietnam. Until recently though it had just been sending military advisors to train the bureaucratic, politicized mess that is the South Vietnamese Army (who had a habit to coup the government), but that all changed after the Gulf of Tonkin Incident. Apparently a North Vietnamese boat opened fire on the USS Maddox last year allowing for President Johnson to pass the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution allowing for the US to intervene in South Vietnam.

You are a member of the 1st Infantry Platoon of the 101st Airborne Battalion and you have been stationed in Pleiku, a heavily forested region in South Vietnam. Here you have one mission, to secure the survival of South Vietnam and stop Communism from taking over indochina. Here you will be under almost constant attack from the VC who have multiple strongholds around Firebase Freedom, your station in the province. If you do well than you might just be promoted, if you dont then your dead, end of story.

The OOC Is Here!

Accepted Grunts:
Klaus Neidemire, Sergeant First Class - Kernan
Frank E. Edwards, Platoon Sergeant - Great Confederacy Of Commonwealth States
Thomas Walsh, 2nd Lieutenant- SkillCrossbones
Andrew Thompson, Corporal - Noahmerica

[SkillCrossbones]

"Your travel orders, sir," the young corporal said, offering 2nd Lieutenant Thomas Walsh a sheet of paper.

Walsh took them and inspected the page. "Thank you, corporal," he said, looking at his assignment. 1st Infantry Platoon, 101st Airborne Battalion in Pleiku. Never heard of it, he thought. First Sergeant Klaus Neidemire...

He turned away, planning to spend what precious little time he had left in the officer's club. Something on the page caught his eye: "Wait, this says I ship out..." he checked his watch. "Now!?"

The corporal didn't miss a beat. "Yes sir, the chopper should be out on the second helipad that way." He gestured off in the direction of the helipads.

"Jesus," Walsh muttered annoyed-ly as he stuffed the paper into the breast pocket of his class-A uniform. He grabbed his pack and walked quickly down the row of prefabricated structures towards the awaiting helicopter.

[Noahmerica]

[Restarting my character due to inactivity]

[Kernan]

-deleted due to impatience-

[Wanderjar]

The first thing which hit him was the heat.


Sergeant Michael Blair was well familiar with heat, being from the Florida rural swamplands it was a fact of life, even more so being a farm boy and football player. One would have thought that such an upbringing would leave this seasoned army soldier of six years well prepared to embrace the furnace which was South Vietnam, Republic of, with verve. Sad fact, which he internally noted to himself, it didn't. In all likelihood, nothing could. And so as he exited the descending stairwell deployed by the Pan Am Boeing 707 which ferried he and a number of his men over from their home base at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, he was instantly awash in sticky sweat which despite endless wiping of his brow, never ceased.

The second was the smell.

Perhaps it was the Vietnamese workers which surrounded the airport at Da Nang, as their unfamiliar and pungent odour filled his nostrils unpleasantly, or perhaps it was the decaying vegetation, rotting in the distance as more land was cleared to make way for the incoming American and Allied forces descending on this part of the world. He pondered this as he grasped his ruck sack and followed, single file, a line of soldiers across the searing tarmac towards a line of Quonset huts arrayed in numerous lines several hundred yards distant.

No, he realized as he passed several shirtless soldiers squeezing bright yellow gallon containers of gasoline into a vile open oil drum, it was the smell of burning shit.

Ignoring this fact, he continued on and neared what he prayed would be the cool shade of the Quonset hut’s interior, though this proved to be a pipe dream as all that awaited him was the dank stuffiness of pent up heat within. As he passed, another sergeant nodded to him and, noting his now drenched green fatigues laughed, ‘Yeah man, sorry ‘bout that. None of that air conditioning and shit here. Damn thing breaks down more than it works.’ Sergeant Blair nodded with a curt and jet lagged grin, but didn’t reply and continued on.

Another sergeant seated across a plastic folding table with a faux wood finish was in processing soldiers, directing them to their appropriate stations. He approached and reported in, saying, ‘Sergeant Michael Blair, second squad of 1st platoon, Bravo Company, 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment.’

‘Calm down there sport, we know who you all are. I’m just recording the names.’

‘Yeah. Blair, Michael.’

‘Good, your lieutenant’s got you all formed up in the assembly area over yonder,’ the sergeant pointed out back on the tarmac.

‘Thanks,’ Blair replied sleepily.

‘Don’t mention it.’

With that, Blair turned and walked out, seeing where his squad had already formed up and was waiting in their predetermined rally area. As he approached, the men cast wary glances at him from their seated positions atop rucksacks and from under the modest shade offered by their olive drab campaign hats. He nodded to the group and pulled a cigarette and Zippo lighter from his chest pocket. After lighting, he took a much needed drag on the coffin nail before admiring for a moment the inscription on his Zippo, ’To my love, with love,’, a gift from his wife just prior to deployment. He had married his sweetheart, Samantha, just prior to this deployment, a sweet blue eyed blonde from his home town he’d been mad for since his days in middle school. He carried a picture of her in his pocket as well.

‘When do we get our combat gear sarge?’ on his men asked, ‘I don’t like being out here without it. I feel exposed.’

‘We’re going to check into the armory once the LT gets everyone squared away,’ Blair replied in between drags. ‘VC ain’t gonna do shit here man, relax.’ That seemed to calm the beleaguered eighteen year old soldier’s nerves. After that, the rest of his eight men sat mostly in silence aside from a few snipes and good humored banter between the young troopers. He knew that they were likely terrified, he knew he was. It was their irst time going overseas for all of them in all likelihood, and for most it was realistically the first time they’d been significantly away from home beyond their enlistment process.

He’d never deployed before either. Not even during his days in the ‘All American’ 82nd Airborne, when much of the unit had spent time in Europe for exercises in Germany. His had been one of the few outfits which had, in fact, not been selected to go, a fact which had then annoyed him. Now he had to admit, if nothing else to himself, that he was afraid. He couldn’t show it to his men, they depended on him not to be, but internally he knew that he was. A year was a long time, and much could happen. He could die. This realization had hit him the night before his long two day flight to Vietnam began, as he lay sleeplessly in bed beside his wife, watching her pretend to sleep.

‘Just come home to me, Mike,’ She begged, eyes misting over. ‘Please.’

He hadn’t known what to say to her, so instead he simply kissed her on her forehead before walking out the door of the townhouse home they had back at Campbell. His boots had echoed loudly on the pavement as he walked down the driveway. In times such as those, it is odd how the mind focuses on the most peculiar details. He didn’t allow himself to think of the fear he felt at that moment in time, or even the wrenching in his stomach he’d felt at seeing Samantha’s blue eyes clouding over. In fact the only thing he thought as he made the walk to the assembly area in the morning darkness was how loud his boots were as they clacked against the road, and his rucksack’s tapping against his back as he lugged the fifty pound bag.

A helicopter flying overhead shook him from his memory, and he watched as the UH-1 ‘Huey’ soared along only a few dozen feet overhead. He hadn’t realized until then just how truly loud this place was. Thousands of men were moving about their business, trucks driving to and fro while aircraft landed disgorging men and material straight from across the United States. He dropped his ruck and sat on it too, pulling another Marlborough from his pack and lighting it, just to read the inscription one more time.

‘Well boys, look at it like this,’ he began, while each of the soldiers squinted against the oppressive sun to look at their squad leader. ‘Just three hundred and sixty four more fuckin’ days.’

[Kernan]

Klaus walked out in front of his new unit and saw a long line of green troops "Fucking amateurs." he whispered to himself as he looked down the line. One man, Blair was his name Klaus thought, saw him and snapped to attention while the others continued to converse with each other. Klaus chuckled, he must have done this before. Klus took out a pistol with blanks and fired it in the air, they were in the middle of a major fort, the VC would just have to watch. The rest of the men looked at him first with a annoyed look, then a serious one as the realized just who Klaus was. Klaus smiled
"Ok meat sacks! Welcome to Vietnam where the country wants to kill you just as much as the people! Now before I introduce myself let me take this time to give you all one warning, dont fuck up! If you do you will die and there is jack shit I can do to help you! Now that we have that out of the way let me introduce myself. I am Klaus Neidimier, and I am here to keep you fucks alive long enough for us to win this war and get the hell out! I am your god for the next year you hear me! If you see me running you better join me, I have been here before so I know my way around the jungle. Speaking of the devil guess what? We get to march to our post at....Firebase Freedom! The LT will meet us there. First though I want you to go to the Armory to get yourselves armed. Never under any circumstances are you to leave the Firebase unarmed or I will shoot you myself. After you get your weapons and gear, meet up by the North Exit."

[Wanderjar]

Sergeant First Class Neidimier was a hard ass, and his reputation as such had spread like wildfire throughout the regiment. In truth, the men of first platoon had never met him before. Due to a most peculiar administrative move, he was established as their platoon sergeant in the days before the First Brigade began its deployment to Vietnam. Blair noticed how despite the heat, the man still managed to keep his fatigues pressed and starched. Whether he was impressed or dreaded interaction with the man, Sergeant Blair had yet to determine.

As he would be serving under the man for this deployment, Blair assumed it was prudent to at least touch base with his new platoon sergeant. SFC Neidimier had turned to walk away after issuing the order to get outfitted at the armoury, and Blair immediately pointed his eight troopers in the direction of the appropriate quonset hut, telling one of the corporals that he'd be joining them momentarily. After this he lightly jogged up to the SFC and announced his presence, saying, 'Sergeant First Class, I'm Sergeant Michael Blair, I'll be your second squad leader. A pleasure to meet you.' He extended his hand in greeting. This was not particularly unorthodox amongst non-commissioned officers. Some senior NCOs would view a handshake as being improper, though a salute from NCO to NCO regardless of seniority was never an acceptable demonstration of respect.

Blair had only worked with NCOs who took a handshake as the beginning of an appropriate working relationship between professional soldiers. He was curious how Klaus Neidimier would react, as this would set the tone of their entire professional relationship.

[Kernan]

Klaus turned and shook the man's hand, it was firm and strong considering his size. "Well you already know who I am. Could you tell the guys not to salute me, makes me feel to important. Never wanted command, just to kick some commie ass to tell you the truth. Now what is it you want Sargent, don't waste my time with a stupid ass question." Klaus meant it to, he hated stupid questions, and man were there a ton.

[Wanderjar]

He smirked as the sergeant first class let go of his hand, he could tell he'd like this man. 'Nah sarge, no questions. Just figured I'd touch base, let you know who you're working with. I know you've got a roster but its always better to be able to put a name to a face, ya know? Anyway I'm going to go herd them troopers over to the exit. They'll be ready for the ride to the FOB.' With that he nodded to SFC Neidimier and hustled off to join his troopers assembling themselves at the armoury.

Surprisingly, for a morass of dozens of eighteen to nineteen year old paratroopers, the assembly at the armoury was fairly organized and not particularly hectic. Familiar faces found each other in the line from across the brigade and the men began to lighten up, fears held deep inside forgotten, at least momentarily. Sergeant Blair moved to the front of the line and signed a series of papers authorizing the equipment transfer of authority to him and his squad. Moving down the line a young private in a white undershirt and green fatigues handed him an M-16A1 rifle, and three magazines which he promptly stuffed in his webgear containers.

'There are grenades further down sarge,' the private said, 'and more ammo too. May need it though to be true not a lot of shit's gone down yet 'round here.'

'Bet that changes right quick son,' Blair replied. The private shrugged and he moved on, grabbing four grenades and taping the pins. He passively reminded his men to tape down the pins to their grenades so they didn't get caught on underbrush and detonate on themselves. He grabbed six more thirty round magazines of ammunition and filled his webgear, before finally grabbing a bag which contained over a dozen other miscellaneous items for general health and well being.

Finally, nearing the end of the line, he was issued a steel helmet with a foliage camouflage cover. After that, he and his squad of eight were combat ready. He hustled them in a column of two abreast to where SFC Neidimier was waiting and, nodding to his platoon sergeant, prepared his men to embark whatever transport would be awaiting to take them to Firebase Freedom, their home away from home for the next three hundred and sixty-four days.

[SkillCrossbones]

The Huey descended on approach to the firebase. Walsh's gaze traced the perimeter of the base and the untamed jungle beyond. It was anyone's guess just what was hidden among the flora. Nerves welled up deep inside of the young lieutenant. He thought back to his training but there was nothing effective to combat the fear instilled by the uncharted abyss that was Vietnam.

Walsh disembarked, still in his dress uniform. Walking away from the helipad, it was quickly apparent that he was painfully overdressed. He glanced about, trying to figure out just where in the hell he was supposed to go. There was nobody nearby who seemed to be in charge, until... " I am Klaus Neidimier," he overheard. The name was unforgettable. Walsh made his way to the voice, and by the time he found the grizzled sergeant the rest of the platoon had dispersed.

Walsh approached the two sergeants. He produced the orders from his pocket and smoothed them. "First Sergeant Neidimier?" he asked, raising his hand to flash a salute before catching himself. Officers don't salute NCOs, he recalled. "I'm Lieutenant Walsh, with your platoon."

[Kernan]

Klaus looked up to see the man standing before him, he could crush him without a thought. Klaus forced a smile "Hello Lieutenant, I am Klaus and I will be your second in command if I understand rightly. I have been at this longer than you and I would like to take an active role in your decision making." Klaus forced himself to be polite.

[Wanderjar]

Firebase Freedom had been erected prior to the deployment of the 2nd battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment to Vietnam by the 173rd Airborne whom they were replacing. The base was decently sized, trenches run along the perimeter which itself over looked rows of barbed wire stretching into hundred yard fields of fire which, should the enemy be stupid enough to attack, would turn into a killing field. Within the base, dug outs in communications trenches and a few Quonset huts became the living quarters for the men who lived inside the base, which even boasted its own enlisted and officer’s clubs, a helicopter landing pad, and a modest but acceptable tactical operations center (TOC) which would be the focus of planning for operations in the region. Seated atop a high hill in Vietnam’s central highlands, Firebase Freedom stood guard over an expanse of dense forest and rolling hills known as the Ashau valley.

A hotbed of Viet Cong activity, the Ashau was determined by planning staffs out of Military Assistance Command Vietnam headquarters in Saigon to require frequent patrol and a constant presence of US military personnel. While some might have questioned the logic in attempting to secure a relatively isolated region of the country, Lieutenant Colonel Henry ‘Hank the Gunslinger’ Emerson could appreciate the strategy.

He’d always been a somewhat eclectic individual, his classmates at West Point had sometimes teased him for his ‘outside the box’ way of thinking and preponderance for taking an avant guarde approach to combat command, but it had served him well as a combat leader during the Korean War so he reached the obvious conclusion that what wasn’t broke needn’t be fixed. With this frame of reference in mind, Lt.Col. Emerson could understand that the painfully conventional thinkers in the Operations Office of MACV headquarters were actually doing some thinking of their own.

The Ashau valley might have been isolated, but by no means was it irrelevant. Highway 19, the life blood of the north as a land route, sat astride this lonely region, not to mention that the infamous ‘Ho Chi Minh Trail’ disgorged thousands of communist agitators and soldiers from the north to cause trouble in the south. Lieutenant Colonel Emerson’s mission was to stop them from doing so, while keeping the highway operational twenty-four hours a day. General Westmoreland, theater commander in Vietnam, was very insistent on that point. Emerson’s job was to figure out how to do it in his own little corner of the world, while keeping his troopers of the 2nd battalion alive.

Hank had been at Freedom for a few days, and men were still pouring into the camp. New Quonset huts were being erected, sandbagged bunkers erected and foxholes dug, while fresh barbed wire was being laid in the no man’s land which ringed the perimeter. If nothing else, he mused to himself, the damned commies would have one hell of a time overrunning his position. Since they were godless heathens he knew that the almighty would be on their side, so that’d never happen regardless. He laughed at the thought, placing a hand on the six-shooter revolver which had become his signature and hung off his hip in a holster. Some of his colleagues and friends ribbed him about trying to be less US Army battalion commander and more old western deputy sheriff, but viewing himself as a cowboy to the core he felt the choice to carry a revolver as opposed to the army standard Colt .45 M1911 was fitting.

Major Thomas Baker, his S3 Operations Officer followed close behind him, as did his battalion Sergeant Major James Ferguson. The battalion executive officer was still at Cam Ranh Bay feeding troops in country, a process which had not gone well, with some men ending up in Da Nang instead. He’d nearly had a conniption when he learned of this monumental logistics fuck up, but his XO, Major Christopher Storey, had managed to sort everyone and everything appropriately, a fact which left him chuffed and in awe at his managerial skill.

‘Well Major,’ Hank began, ‘Looks like we’re gonna have quite a war don’t it?’

‘Yeah Colonel,’ Major Baker replied, his Boston accent coming out strong, ‘It does indeed.’ The two stood outside the TOC, and Sergeant Major Ferguson lit a cigarette, offering his pack to the two officers. Baker accepted and accepted Ferguson’s lighter. ‘I’d say we’ve got a good unit assembling. In a few days we’ll be operational. Just need to let the guys get acclimated and ready to go.’

‘You know,’ began Sergeant Major Ferguson, his Kentucky drawl a sharp contrast to the Bostonian Baker’s harsh voice, ‘When we got here I thought god DAMN is it hot. Now it’s fuckin’ cold! Why can’t this damn country make up its mind?’ Baker, a somewhat stiff necked individual was appalled by Ferguson’s brunt and vulgar manner, which Emerson shared himself.

‘It’s warmer down the slope,’ Emerson chuckled. ‘Is a bit strange though living with both extremes.’

‘That it is, sir,’ The battalion’s senior NCO concurred. ‘So what now?’

‘With what, exactly?’ asked Emerson.

‘What are we to prepare for, sir?’

‘Well, like Major Baker here suggested we let the men acclimate to the climate and get used to being in country. Then we’re going to start going out of exploratory patrols just to check things out. Take it real smooth like, you hear?’

‘Yes sir,’ Ferguson acknowledged. ‘Sounds smart to me.’

‘Glad you think so,’ the battalion commander grinned. ‘Tom, link up with Jim and we can start trying to work something out.’ Emerson was of course referring to the battalion S2 intelligence officer, Major Jim Craft. ‘I’d like to get a series of pre-planned target areas. I wouldn’t be overly opposed for our first venture out to make our presence known result in a few dead slant eyes.’

‘Roger that sir,’ Tom Baker said. ‘Also, I’m going to get the pre-planned artillery zones set up like you asked earlier, damn comms have been wonky though.’

‘Well get that done ASAP, we need that taken care of in case we’re attacked or the boys need arty when they go out in the bush. Dunno what we’re gonna find out there, but I bet its gonna get real hairy, real fuckin’ quick.’ With that, the three men split up to tackle their individual tasks. Sergeant Major Ferguson went off to ensure the continued smooth flow of troops into Firebase Freedom from across Vietnam, and their positioning throughout the base, while Major Baker went to prepare the troopers of 2/502 for war.

[Toishima]

Le Nguyen Danh had alredy been at the firebase for several days at this point, and was well-accustomed to the somewhat overbearing Sergeant First Class Neidemire. The hapless ARVN translator usually hung around with the other translators or with the fresher recruits, but even then he had heard the black rumours and ridiculous stories of the man. Perhaps it was with some bad luck that he had been chosen to be attached to Neidemire's 1st Platoon for the duration of their operations in thung lũng A Sầu- the "A Shaw valley" to his new comrades.

Carrying some official papers, wearing his helmet and a flak jacket, Danh made his way out of the quonset hut that accommodated the ARVN attachment and began walking towards the helipad, where Neidemire was said to be. His English was far from fully natural and his accent was strong, but it was good enough. The Vietnamese man was shorter than most of the US soldiers and looked quite out of place in full gear while most of the much paler Americans lazed and worked mostly shirtless. Some threw beer cans at him for entertainment, and he often responded with the ubiquitous "Fuck you, GI!" that left the men roaring with laughter. He had even learned to use the appropriate hand gesture in his time out here.

Danh noticed that helicopters full of troops had been coming with more frequency in recent days. Coupled with his sudden attachment to this unit, he assumed that there would be some kind of combat action soon. He had seen combat before, but on the other side of the war. None of the men on the base knew he was originally a Viet Cong operative a few years ago, with that detail having been helpfully scrubbed out of his record by the ARVN before they gave him to the Americans. To the Americans, he was but another ARVN trooper sent over for translation services.

Coming up on the helipad, Danh was harassed by another group of young soldiers who threw a picture of a naked girl at him. Disgusted by the obscene imagery, he threw the thing back and gave them two fingers. The group chuckled, retrieved their pornography and left. As Danh stepped up to the helipad, a UH-1 came in for a landing and blasted the area with strong rotor wash. He noticed the First Sergeant waiting at the side of the helipad, and moved up to him.

A smartly-dressed man, obviously some kind of officer, stepped out of the helicopter, looked around briefly and approached Neidemire. The Sergeant saluted the officer and they had a short exchange.

Danh quickly moved next to both of them and gave a stiff salute.

"Private Lê Nguyễn Danh reporting, sirs! I am Army of Republic of Việt Nam attachment. I am reassigned to this unit. These are the document," Danh hesitantly reported, his accent heavy. He extended an official reassignment document towards the officer and NCO holding it in both hands.

[Kernan]

Klaus looked it over quickly then turned to the LT "Dont worry, its legit. They look almost identical to mine, save the few details that need changing." He smiled and shook the man's hand before walking over to Blair before pulling him aside "Hey Blair, keep a look on that slant eyed fucker over there." he said pointing to the Vietnamese man "I don't want to find out he is VC before its too late. Now lets go out to patrol Highway 19, get some men first."

[Alderann]

Adam was a little shocked by all that was going on at first, by the people of Vietnam, by the smell, and especially by the heat. He had never experienced heat like this. Up until now he thought the hottest place he had ever been was Georgia when he went to basic and jump school. He remembers what they use to call the running track there, "the skillet" because running that was like being in a frying pan. But after being here he quickly learned that the Georgia heat couldn't prepare him for this.

After the platoon sergeant have his introduction and gave the order to go get gear issue he went. While all the other privates still stood around Adam went to the armory. Quickly getting there will ahead of anyone else. Looking up at the supply sergeant.
" private Wayman reporting for gear issue sergeant."

the supply sergeant looked at Adam and gave a little grin.
" well holy shit a private with some ducking military beating. Tell you what I like you so I'll throw in a few extra mags and smokes. You can thank me later."

All Adam could do was reply. " thank you sergeant"

the supply sergeant did his job issuing all the gear that he would need. Rucksack, rifle, ammo, smokes, 4 grenades, canteens, sleeping gear, everything Adam would need the supply sergeant gave him and even threw in a little extra just because he showed some military bearing.

As Adam was about the leave the supply sergeant looked at Adam. " hey your going to firebase freedom right?"

"yes sergeant"

" well there is a little village up there and in that village there is a girl, and that girls name is Kimiko and well she's not a whore but because I like you when you get there find her. She will make your stay here a lot better."

all Adam could do was say " thank you sergeant".

He then quickly ran to where he was told to report, the platoon sergeant and the Lieutenant was the only ones around.

" sir private Wayman reporting as instructed all gear as been issued sir!"

standing at attention he waited for orders.

[Kernan]

Klaus turned from Blair and looked at the man standing in front of him and nodded. "Hello Private. I am Sergeant First Class Klaus and I have a special order for you and my friend Blair over there. I want you to go get the LT and tell him to gather some men for me, I want to go out on patrol. Are you two in?"

[Alderann]

Adam looked at sergeant first-class Blair and replied

" yes sergeant! The private will do whatever is needed!"

but in Adams mind the thought of a patrol made him a little nervous but he didn't show it all he did was think to himself this could be his chance to show that he isn't just another dumb private.

He stood there waiting for his orders.

[Toishima]

After reporting to the Sergeant, Danh rapidly became ignored by the American troops he was to be working with. The Sergeant ordered a preparation for a sweep of Highway 19, and Danh went to gather his gear from the ARVN quonset. He once again made his way back through the base, having memorised the general layout by instinct, though it was always changing with more huts being put up constantly. The jungle was much the same, and changed constantly. If one was attentive, though, the land always stayed the same. Returning to the hut he found his fellow ARVN translator, Ngoc Pham Quan, poring over some manuals. Danh gathered up his field pack, water canteens and M-16, and bade farewell to his fellow Vietnamese compatriot before leaving.

He first went to the water tanks to fill up the canteens, then went out to the armoury to obtain ammunition. The supply sergeant reluctantly handed the scout three bandoleers of seven M-16 magazines each and a belt of M60 ammunition, as well as three M26 grenades. All of this was draped over his shoulders or clipped to his belt. He also grabbed some field rations for good measure, then headed back to the sergeant for further orders.

Instead of actually approaching the man and risk being sidelined again, Danh just hung around the edge of the helipad silently.

[Western Imperial Union]

He hadn't been in Vietnam very long but Sam Hanesworth already took his rifle everywhere. Everyday he could hear gunfire. Most of it was near him but it still put him on edge. His first day in country he had been pulled into moving dead and wounded around in a small field hospital. He had no idea the war was so brutal.

The blood and death was awful but so was the climate. Kansas could be hot, and it could be cold. But back home he never woke up in the middle of the night physically drowning in sweat. It seemed like the air was so humid he would suffocate.

Sam was ready to leave less than a week after he arrived. At least he was until he got his first letter from home. It said his father had died of a heart attack , but that he had wanted Sam's mom to give him a message saying he was proud if Sam and would watch over him in the war.

He sighed and forced himself to be optimistic and borderline extremist on the subject if the war. All Hanesworths fought for their country and many died for it too. Sam didn't want to die but he would fight.

[SkillCrossbones]

Klaus looked up to see the man standing before him, he could crush him without a thought. Klaus forced a smile "Hello Lieutenant, I am Klaus and I will be your second in command if I understand rightly. I have been at this longer than you and I would like to take an active role in your decision making." Klaus forced himself to be polite.

"Oh, well, of course," Walsh answered without a thought. He thought he picked up a hint of icy contempt in the request, and Walsh was not interested in getting on the bad side of this imposing character during his very first day in the country.

At the very least, he looked like he would be a valuable asset to Walsh, which was better than nothing.

Danh quickly moved next to both of them and gave a stiff salute.

"Private Lê Nguyễn Danh reporting, sirs! I am Army of Republic of Việt Nam attachment. I am reassigned to this unit. These are the document," Danh hesitantly reported, his accent heavy. He extended an official reassignment document towards the officer and NCO holding it in both hands.

Klaus looked it over quickly then turned to the LT "Dont worry, its legit. They look almost identical to mine, save the few details that need changing."

The lieutenant just nodded cautiously, watching the exchange of papers, not wanting to do anything stupid. I need to get the hell out of these, Walsh thought as he shifted in his dress uniform, which was about as comfortable as an army tent, and nearly the same color and breathability for that matter. "Sergeant I'm going to get into something more appropriate," he said before Neidimier went off to confer with Sergeant Blair.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walsh scrambled to the living quarters where he abandoned the dress uniform for some much more appropriate fatigues. From there he headed to the armory.

"Lieutenant Walsh for gear... issue," he said uncertainly.

The supply sergeant nodded and gestured, "just move on down the line, sir." Walsh could feel him silently judging. Probably betting with himself about just how long Walsh would last out there. He moved along and received a standard loadout. When the young private handed over the M-16, Walsh's arms buckled slightly. It seemed heavier than the weapon he had been trained with back in the states.

The lieutenant made his way back out to the assembling platoon. He looked over the anxious group of soldiers, then at Sergeants Neidimier and Blair, and then down at himself. Somehow, in spite of the fact for most of them, this was their first day in Vietnam, Walsh's uniform seemed to be even more starched and pressed than the rest. He felt like sniper bait even without the dress uniform. He stood silently, awkwardly, uncomfortably, awaiting some sort of cue from First Sergeant Neidimier.

[Wanderjar]

Sergeant Blair nodded to his platoon sergeant and said over his shoulder, 'Roger that sarge, I'll get the guys.' The Firebase wasn't large enough that it took him long to get to his men's squad bay, and upon entry he said a quick, 'Load up people, we're moving out.'

Private First Class Richard Dawson, a relatively new addition to the squad, groaned, 'Fuck sarge we just got here!'

'Yeah and now we're going to get to see some exotic wildlife. Maybe kill a few gooks ya know? But if you want I'll grab your fuzzy slippers and maybe we can sip some joe while we wait for you to get comfortable sweetheart.' The squad laughed and even the griping Dawson gave a smirk while he reached for his webgear.

Carrying weapons at all times was an order straight from Lieutenant Colonel Emerson, so unlike other posts throughout the country weapons were kept on the individual soldier at all times as opposed to locked at inconvenient weapons lockers in the armoury. So within minutes the eight troopers of second squad were ready to go. He filed his men out to the assembly area as established by Sergeant First Class Neidimier and waited.

He didn't have to wait long, the battalion commander came out to see off the troopers as they readied to go beyond the wire. The man was average height, but his presence spoke volumes. The man was no joke, and every soldier there could feel it.

'Alright boys,' he began with a smile while chomping on a cigar. 'I just want you all to take it real easy like. No rushing, no theatrics, just go out and get familiar with the territory, ya hear?'

He continued, 'We don't know much about this place, we're still getting settled in. But I want you to make it known that the second battalion five oh second infantry of the one hundred and fuckin' first airborne is here and we ain't goin' nowheres. Any black pajama clad motherfucker you come across could be one of Ho Chi Minh's cock sucking commie rat bastards and I want you to remember that. Alright?' With that, he turned and walked off leaving the men of second squad waiting for their orders.

The Lieutenant was visibly uncomforable, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not laugh as he shuddered in the now wrinkled green dress uniform. 'Sir,' Sergeant Blair said, fighting and largely succeeding to keep the laughter from coming out, 'would you like me to get you a set of fatigues?' The lieutenant didn't respond though he did return with a set of more fitting attire for the environment they found themselves.

He appeared to be struggling with the M-16, a fact which Blair also found humorous considering that it was only about five pounds unloaded, and was significantly lighter than the M-14 with which he was likely more familiar. All the same, he attributed it to the softer lifestyle enjoyed by officers and, if experience proved anything, knew that in time he'd grow into a more effective combat leader. Between Neidimier and Blair, they would guide the LT into readiness, for all their sakes.

'Lieutenant,' Blair said again, 'Second squad's good to go sir. Just give us the word okay?'

[Kernan]

Klaus smiled as he handled the M-16. It had been awhile since he had gone on a patrol and to tell you the truth, he missed it. He loved the rush of battle and the thrill of watching the life drain out his enemies. The only downside is that he could die and be robbed of doing it again. He sat impatiently awaiting the authorization to go and kill.

[SkillCrossbones]

'Lieutenant,' Blair said again, 'Second squad's good to go sir. Just give us the word okay?'

Walsh nodded. "Alright men," he spoke, and the hushed muttering among the ranks tapered off. He cleared his throat and spoke a little more loudly but still with an edge of inexperience in his voice, "we are to patrol Highway 19 for enemy activity. Follow the lead of your squad leader. Any questions?" Receiving no response, he turned to the sergeants and looked as if to say How was that? "Well, let's move out," he said to them.

[Kernan]

'Lieutenant,' Blair said again, 'Second squad's good to go sir. Just give us the word okay?'

Walsh nodded. "Alright men," he spoke, and the hushed muttering among the ranks tapered off. He cleared his throat and spoke a little more loudly but still with an edge of inexperience in his voice, "we are to patrol Highway 19 for enemy activity. Follow the lead of your squad leader. Any questions?" Receiving no response, he turned to the sergeants and looked as if to say How was that? "Well, let's move out," he said to them.

Klaus shrugged as Wlash walked past. He then ran ahead of the squad and pointed to the dense foliage in front of them "I told you once but since you all are about as smart as a dead pig...bar a few of you" he said looking at Blair "I will say it again. When we are in the forest there is to be no talking unless it is absolutely necessary. If you find a booby trap for god sakes dont fucking touch it and listen to Me, the LT or Blair as he has at least some semblance of military experience. We also have been granted the great and not so great assurance of air cover, how that will help us when the trees are so dense you can't see the sky beats me but that better than nothing. Now lets move out."

[SkillCrossbones]

The sound of a radio faded as the platoon left the safety of the firebase. A DJ spoke as if delivering a parting message to the soldiers.

This number rode to the top of the chart yesterday, for your enjoyment, it's Sonny and Cher!

Walsh jogged to catch up with Niedimier, making sure to stay close to him, but not so close as to smother him. He had hopes that the two sergeant's experience would in time rub off of him, preferably sooner rather than later. They both seemed to be on top of the situation, at any rate.

The crunch of dirt underneath combat boots filled the air as the unit filed along behind Niedimier.