The flight into San Fransisco landed late in the evening. The airport was
almost empty except for a few people scattered about. I hooked up
with a few soldiers at the cab stand, we shared the ride to the hotel and a room. Then we proceded to hit every bar and club in the area. My cash ran out after a few days of nonstop drinking.
Man was I broke, I had to beg a rid to the base from a cab driver. He said that it was the least he could do for the guys that were going over there, and not skiping off to Canada. Let me tell you, I couldn't thank the man enough.
I was about four days late by now and figured that I was in big trouble. But to my supprise nobody seemed to notice or even care. I guess they figured better late than never.
Processing went fast enough, and of corse you had to get a bunch of shots before you could leave the country.
What little sleep we got was in large warehouse's with bunks as far as you could see. Not a window in the place either.
With the processing done and our jungle gear drawn, we were put on a plane. It landed in Hawii and again in Guam. We never got out of the terminals but got to look around a bit.
When it landed in Viet Nam and we got off, it was like trying to breathe under water, and the heat was incredable, like nothing I had ever encountered before.
We were taken to a distribution area, I guess you might call it. We waited to find out where we were going. As we waited, an ambulance pulled up, and a soldier got out and asked for O+ blood doners. A few of the others and I jumped into the ambulance and went to the hospital, where we all donated blood, we all got a big glass of brandy when
we were finished.
I saw some of the soldiers that needed the blood, and they were shot up badly. That was when it hit home. This was no game man. It's the real deal, and these people play for keeps.
We eventually got back to the distribution area and I found out where I was going. Was I ever supprised to find out that I was in the 101st. Airborn Division.
That same evening
we were hit with a rocket and mortar attack. I wasn't even in country 24 hours, and had not drawn a weapon yet. And already these bastards were trying to put me in a body bag. That's what I call a warm welcome.
© 1997 rmckechan@usa.net
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