storage areas, damaging five enemy foxholes.
* * *
AMERICAN servicemen like to name things. They always have, they probably always will. While the majority of names painted on vehicles and weapons have little or no meaning to most, to a few they have a real and profound significance. The title on a Jeep or a gun becomes a personal thing, allowing a group of GIs to identify with it and, in turn, making the christened piece of equipment "one of the boys."
We have seen many names over the years and have yet to see one we didn't like, albeit scores we couldn't understand and fully appreciate. In Vietnam we have seen the "Orient Express," "Chavez' Ravine," "Saigon Tea," "Cheap Charlie," "Hooter-ville Cannonball," "Wetsu" (an acronym for We Eat This Stuff Up), "Puff the Tragic Wagon," "Diablo," "Cong A-Go-Go," "Catch 22," and those named for every girl in the world.
But the one we liked best and could appreciate and enjoy to the fullest was on a Jeep assigned to the 12th Public Information Detachment of the II Field Force at Long Binh: "Credibility. Gap."
* * *
WHEN I had occasion to visit the 4th Infantry Division headquarters, not too far from Pleiku, in July 1967, I took a short cut through one of the division's many motor pools to reach my next port of call and a long overdue chat with an old friend. On the way, I spotted a highly polished two-and-a-half ton truck (particularly unusual for the muddy/dusty terrain of the Vietnamese central plains area), which proudly displayed the name "Moonglow" from her radiator grill. I stopped and asked a youthful specialist four who was laboriously shining a side panel how the vehicle had come by the name.
"Well," he blushed unashamedly, "I spend most of my time behind the wheel of this baby, and "Moonglow" happens to be my wife's and my favorite song."
I thanked him and went on my way feeling somewhat sheepish about the encounter. I was embarrassed. Not for him, but for me. Before I departed, I caught myself winking at the gleaming deuce-and-a-half and giving her an affectionate pat on her starboard front fender.
Heretofore I had always thought of "Moonglow" as being the exclusive property of Eunie and me.
* * *
AFRIEND of Gunnery Sergeant Herb Lang was going on emergency leave and, since his tour was almost up, wouldn't be returning. He bequeathed his "bar" to the gunny.
Herb was telling Army Sergeant Bob Nell about it, and noted that the stock included a tremendous amount of wine.
"Be sure to save the labels," Bob told him.
"Save the labels, what for?"
"I don't know how many it takes," explained Bob, "but when you get enough of them, mail them to the winery and they'll send you a park bench and a stack of old newspapers."
* * *
THERE is beauty in Vietnam. But one must seek it only when he can afford the luxury because time to dwell on such things is very heavily rationed.
The other evening we sat on the roof of our quarters and watched the sun go down. Sipping on a can of tepid Budweiser, we found a simple yet total pleasure in this complete act of God. An exquisite panorama splashed across the Oriental sky for the benefit of no one but us.
Each of us reflected individually. We watched as day turned to dusk and dusk turned to night. As the crimsons, scarlets, golds, and vermilions turned to indigo, I found a stretch of New England seacoast known only to me. There was a little cove there, tranquil and secluded, with an island in the middle. There was a tiny fishing boat there, too.
Wait! Who dares to invade my cove? What right has he ... But then I realized that the fishing boat belonged to me and everything was all right again. There was a fish jumping in my cove. He hung there, suspended in midair, for the longest time before he disappeared. I think he was a swordfish, but everyone knows that swordfish don't range this far north. Perhaps he just came up to see me. Yes, that must be it. He just came up to see me.
Atop a distant crag was perched a lighthouse; winking at me and warning others away. I felt quite secure.
When the indigos turned to blacks, and my cove, island, and fishing boat began to fade, as all such things are wont to do, my lighthouse remained ... winking at me. As I began the long journey back to Vietnam, I soon realized that my lighthouse was nothing more than lightning flashes on the horizon, trumpeting the approach of the monsoons.
Hold it a minute! There is a pattern to the flashes ... a rhythm, if you will. Then I knew. My lighthouse was really the muzzle-flash from a One-Five-Five ... vomiting death in Charlie's face.
* * *
OVER a couple of beers in the enlisted club at the MACV compound in Pleiku, we struck up a conversation with a crusty old sergeant major.
Although he said he had only been in-country a few weeks, his knowledge of highlands geography led us to ask if perhaps this wasn't his second tour in Vietnam.
"Actually," he said, "I have 29 years in the Army now, so I'm pulling two Vietnam tours at once ... my first and my last."
* * *
PETTY OFFICER Jim ("Red") Lowery is a likable chap who likes to think of himself as being frugal. One of his pet peeves is what he considers to be the exorbitant prices one has to pay for meals in the government-operated messes in Vietnam. Normally, this is fifty cents for breakfast and a dollar each for dinner and supper.
To offset this high cost of living, Red subsists a good deal of the time on snack items from the PX, which he purchases in quantity at regular intervals. We grew curious to find out just how much money Red was saving, so we tallied up the cost of a typical noon repast.
| I can selected fancy crab meat | .65 |
| I can Vienna sausages | .25 |
| I can Beenie-Weenies | .25 |
| I can Fritos | .30 |
| I package peanut butter crackers | .05 |
| I can soda pop | .10 |
The total came to $1.60 and, two hours later, Red was hungry again!
* * *
PETER HELLER, one of the briefers at the Joint U.S. Mission Press Center in Saigon, had an assignment on September 30, 1967, that we didn't envy.
To the assembled press corps he announced: "We have a report that power in Saigon will be off for 48 hours beginning sometime this evening."
As he finished, the lights went off.
Only five days earlier, from the same rostrum, Peter had announced that five new diesel generators, provided and installed by USAID, had a capacity to light 400,000 homes and were expected to solve Saigon's electrical power problems.
* * *
PROTEST marchers and draft-card
