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RECOLLECTIONS: Until I Finally Believed It

By VVAW

"BETTER HIM THAN ME"

Two weeks can pass very quickly when things get routine. We had been out of the field and back in battalion headquarters for a week. The company was on "sparrow-hawk" or stand-by alert. This meant we were to be ready to move out to the field with a five-minute notice if another unit was having contact with the enemy.

I was in the middle of my noon meal when the bell went off.

"Sparrow-hawk; saddle up!" shouted the gunnery sergeant. "you've got four minutes to move your asses out of here and three of them are already gone."

The trucks were parked outside our hootches before we could get our packs on. As soon as we were all saddled-up and loaded into the trucks, the platoon sergeant took a head count and the trucks were off. The convoy pulled out onto the runway where four huge Chinook helicopters were waiting to receive us. Olive-green with ramps down in the rear and the fronts raised, they resembled enormous grasshoppers. The door-gunner was outside of the chopper motioning us off the trucks and into the rear hatch of the helicopter. He moved like a third-base coach directing his runners to home plate. The gunner followed the last Marine, jumping in over the half-closed ramp. He positioned himself behind an M-60 machine gun pointed to the ground. He looked us over for a hot second, then gave the co-pilot the thumbs up. The co-pilot did the same to the pilot and with a sudden burst of speed we were in the air on our way.

We headed south along the coast until we reached an old bombed-out village. As soon as the chopper touched down in a dried rice paddy we were directed out. The ground team told us to take up positions on a rise just outside the village and face west toward the mountains. After we positioned ourselves, Oklahoma and I began to dig a foxhole large enough for the tow of us to jump in if a mortar attack should happen. Soon the whole unite was due in around what was left of the small village.

"Hotel" company was to be a blocking force for "F" company, which had made contact somewhere in the hills west of our position. "F" company was sweeping a VC squad our way so we could block access to the coast where the population was centered.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. I even had a chance to go down to the stream in back of our position to fill our canteens. Oklahoma had been unusually quiet all afternoon. He didn't even have that shit-eating grin he constantly wore. I wrote it off to the excitement of the day.

It was one of those rare moments when the sun came out long enough to eat. A quiet peace settled over us as we watched it make a spectacle of itself, splashing pink, red and blue all over the countryside. It was as if war had no business there.

Both of us had taken our helmets off to enjoy some C-ration hot chocolate and cookies. Suddenly to the rear of our position it sounded like the fourth of July. Tracer rounds flew everywhere. I grabbed for my helmet and rifle, staying as low as I could in the hole but still allowing myself a wide field of vision. The noise was deafening. I heard shouting but I couldn't make out what was being said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Oklahoma's helmet fly off and his body go into convulsions. I was afraid to look. I know what had happened. The firing stopped after what seemed like hours. Marines were shouting:

"Corpsman up! Corpsman up! We need a doc over here!" The squad leader crawled over to my position.

"I saw what happened," he said, as he handed me his poncho; "Cover him up and hold your position. We have to get the wounded out first. I'll get back as soon as I can."

I forced myself to look. I didn't recognize his face. It was a mess. His lifeless body lay twisted, one leg bent awkwardly under the other. I felt numb, almost as though I should have expected this. I threw the poncho over him and I turned my back.

"Better him than me," I said over and over again until I finally believed it.