As a young twenty something military policeman (MP) in the
United States Army (USA) my life was exciting in many ways. Not only was I a
soldier in the USA but an MP and MP life kept me busy all the time. My schedule
was weird most of the time, hours were long, strange, and the job was tough.
After all USA MPs enforce the law on folks who are trained to kill when they
join the Army and those folks being trained to kill get better and better at
their jobs as time and training move along.
Life in the USA started for me when I was turning twenty years
old with basic combat training at Fort Lewis, Washington; advanced individual
MP training at Gordon, Georgia; then my first MP assignment in Vietnam as an MP
serving with the Army Security Agency (ASA) and the 509th Radio
Research (RR).
At the time serving in a war torn country was exciting for a
young guy, but it was a job and my job in Vietnam was to protect RR folks on
the ground in tents, buildings, and vehicles; those who worked in bunkers under
the ground, in boats on the water and in aircraft in the air. Yep, ASA and or
RR folks performed all sorts of duties that took them too many strange areas
and locations all over the world.
As and MP it was made very clear to me (MP training on how to
protect ASA personnel) bad folks were out to get the ASA and RR folks. The
spooks and spies of the 509th RR the MPs were there to protect did
not know they were targets or did not care about being caught because most of
those folks did some strange things when they were not on duty.
Many RR folks were not aware they were under surveillance much
of the time in order to protect them or at least protect the knowledge they had
about the day to day missions of the RR.
Never quite under stood why many of the code folks who should
have known they were not just your average GI Joe did not seem to care who they
associated with when not on the job.
The atmosphere at the 509th RR in Saigon for all RR
folks was very laid back, while waiting for my in country MP assignment there
were no formations, no physical training, no guidance, just Armed Forces
Network television, playing games in the activity room, eating three meals a
day, going to the non commissioned officers club at night for the entertainment
and waiting for orders to move.
If there had not been a war going on outside my barracks door
the assignment in Vietnam would have been a dream assignment, but those extra
four weeks of MP training on protecting ASA and RR property and personnel
reminded me just how quickly a dream job could turn into the job from hell.
Just as my mind was getting use to Saigon my orders arrived
for a place called Nah Trang located on the coast of Vietnam, it was a French vacation
area at one time, now home to the USA Green Berets, Rangers, ASA, 509th
RR, my unit to be, 144th Aviation Company and of course the US Air
Force.
One morning bright and early several of us RR MPs and about
ten other folks were loaded on a large truck to go get our combat gear, yep, we
had been in country several weeks and did not even have our combat gear or not
the special combat gear, we did have a flack vest, helmet, and 45 cal side arm.
The truck with one MP gun jeep left Saigon for Long Binh Post
with a stop in Ben Hoya for who knows what. On the trip we observed all sorts of
locals walking, riding those loud smelly motor bikes, and even saw rickshaws
mixed in with all the Vietnamese and American vehicle traffic that choked the
roads everywhere we traveled.
This 2013 clip gives you an idea of what it was like, just
toss in dirt roads and military trucks with older cars and motor bikes and you
get the idea of what it was like to drive in Saigon in the 1970s.
Remember, just about all of us on the truck were new to the
Vietnam War experience and had not seen combat of any kind until that day. We
were happy all the horror stories we had read about and seen on TV seemed to be
a thing of the past, then the first mortar hit, missed the truck, took out
several tin can houses along the right side of the truck, we were all locked
and loaded but had no line of sight to whoever was firing on us, if they were
firing on us.
The truck pulled over to the left side of the road and all of
us dismounted and dove into bunkers located on the side of the road, three more
shells hit near the truck but did not damage the truck or injure any of us. The
all clear was give after about ten minutes, we got back in the truck with an
idea there was more to this war than having a good time in a foreign land.
As we got closer to the Army Post we realized this was a very
large military base with lots of protection so we were feeling good again.
Arrived at our destination, got out duffel back full of fun war stuff that we
would have loved to have had if we were going into the jungle, but everyone on
the truck was rear detachment folks and would most likely never be on a jungle
mission of any sort.
On the way back we stopped in Ben Hoya for a few hours, and
then as we were leaving the military area another mortar exploded in front of
us causing the jeep and the truck to take evasive driving actions, we were
tossed about the back of the open truck and three guys fell out!
The truck ran off the right side of the road this time, and
drove halfway through one of the tin can buildings before stopping, we all had
already jumped over the side of the truck and found protective cover in a large
trench filled with who knows what.
We never knew who kept shooting at us, they were horrible
shots, all they blew up were their own folks and buildings, that was sad, but
we were happy we were not injured with the exception of some scrapes and
bruises. When the barrage of ten mortars
stopped, all missing us, we jumped back in the truck and managed to make it
back to the safety of our military compound in Saigon.
After a night of fun, food, and drink we were loaded on
vehicles to head out to our assignments, many got back in the same truck while
I was in the MP gun jeep headed for the air field near where we were attacked
the day before. Once at the airfield about ten MPs and twenty other folks
boarded the Air Force C130 Cargo air craft and headed for Nha Trang, Vietnam.
As the memories come to me I will jot them down and try and
refine them some, but a memory is just that, a memory and may not be the best
historical source, smiles.
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