OK. I admit it. I am a real honest to God war hero. I really don't like to talk about it but it is seared, seared in my memory. The picture below was taken on the very day it happened.
I know it was December of 1968. It is seared, seared in my memory. I'm not sure about the exact date, but everything else about it is seared, seared in my memory.
I apologize for the quality of the photo but it is, after all, almost 36 years old.
Update: The photo was enhanced by this guy.
To demonstrate how this is seared, seared in my memory, I'll identify the men in the group of four. From left to right, Keith Kirkpatrick, me, Pres Smith and Steve Cohen, and those are tab top rings in his hat.
We were sitting on a pontoon in the Bassac river just across the border from Cambodia, that is, we were within 150 miles of the border. That is seared, seared in my memory.
On the Bassac River where we were they had LST's anchored there to provide support for PBR's (Patrol Boat River). Unlike the Swift Boats that did most of their work in coastal areas, these guys worked up river and in country. If Kerry had been on a PBR, I might have believed his Christmas in Cambodia story. Often PBR's were commanded by a senior NCO.
I'm not sure if there were one, two, or three LST's on station, but everything else is seared, seared in my memory.
The reason we were up the Bassac on this eventful day was we had transported supplies up to the ships on station. We did this twice. The Bassac River was not a free fire zone. On our way up the river, we had guys manning .50 calibers on both side of the ship, but if we were fired upon, we had to get permission to fire back. Those rules of engagement are seared, seared in my memory.
Now comes the story of my wound, which is seared, seared in my memory. The pontoon we are sitting on is what the PBR's would tie up to. We were having a little 'beer on the pontoon' party. LST duty sucked but there were some benefits. One was 'beer on the pontoon' and the other was 'beer on the pier' which was what we would sometimes have when beached at Danang or Cua Viet. We'd break out some cases of beer, fill a couple of GI cans full of ice and then fill them up with beer cans. Off duty personnel were allowed to have two beers, but no one really kept track.
So there we were drinking our beer calm as could be. Now comes the part that is seared, seared in my memory. When opening my second can of beer, the tab ring broke off the tab top. So now I had to try and get the beer open by other means. I used my P-38 to pry the tab up enough to grasp with my fingers and pull off. Unfortunately, I managed to cut myself while doing so. Oooooow! I've been wounded!
So there I was, up the Bassac River, not very far from the Cambodian border, in a non-free fire zone and I'm wounded. The trauma of this event is seared, seared in my memory.
And I didn't even get a Purple Heart.
But I finally have closure. Maybe now the nightmares will stop.
Posted by denny at September 25, 2004 03:15 PMUnless my eyes deceive me, that's a can of Oly in the foreground, isn't it?
Posted by: Craig on September 25, 2004 04:10 PMYou are one funny guy Denny. LMFAO
Posted by: Ahnold on September 25, 2004 04:42 PMAh! Its the little things that count. A beer in the Delta, a smoke in the bush, and a purple heart in your pocket. Yo Denny, do you suppose that Kerry had good scotch from his buddy Ted while he was plotting his political failure, I mean future while he spent his nights pondering where he could film his heroic escapdes?
Posted by: Paul in Pa on September 25, 2004 05:16 PMThat is just messed-up, dude!
Posted by: Dennis on September 25, 2004 05:57 PMWait a minute !! I seared my ass on that hot pontoon and, it is also burned in my memory. Where's my medal? Craig, your'e right, it was Oly but, it was a damn site better than the warm Lucky Lager that we frequently had to consume.
Posted by: Pres on September 25, 2004 06:55 PMI'm emailing this one to my buddy in Atlanta!!!
Seared, huh? LMFAO
I know it was December of 1998.
Denny I think you mean 1968.
Posted by: Greg DiCroce on September 26, 2004 12:19 AMOne of my fondest memories, one of the things that excited my mind and essence beyond all sense and experience, was when I posted to '*****' some 4-5 years ago and I suddenly got a 'response'!
It said to me that here was a kindred-spirit.
It said to me that here was someone else aside from myself who was in front of a monitor and was touching keys.
From my USAF/USMC communicators point of view, this was treasure & gold BEYOND value.
*****, my friend, I guess I never communicated to you that which is the one true thing that means something POWERFUL to me: I would commend to you that singular Moody Blues album that opens with 'Communications!"
I think it's called "The Story in Your Eyes"
My endless repetition and desperate rendition of the lyrics from that album kept me from punching out my fellow inmates in the insane-asylum of Travis AFB in 1976. I'd of killed somebody there physically and really without that simple cassette of things-better-promised.
Murderous, deadly RAGE is what brews inside of me; gentle, sweet, understanding and hope is what tempers my existence; such is what my bi-polar disease bestows on my daily-day.
To the extent that I can receive communications; to the extent that I can broadcast what I think are universal-feelings/cares/concerns; I remain alive.
My fellow-inmate Chester @ Travis used to sketch my rage and mis-understanding; He captured me precisely.The fuck-head went on and stole all of my possessions when I was Med-Evac'ed.
All I want is to examine thoughts/ideas/feelings/cares/concerns with an eye toward larger understanding. I've come to understand that such desire is defined as unpatriotic, psychotic, and generally unacceptable.
Maybe I'll do as I'm asked and 'surrender'; it's then that I'll start killing indiscriminately.
YOU make the Call.
I too cut my finger punching in a badly-formed beer can; While YOU could have put in for a Heart, I chose to bleed in ignorance and shame.
As you can see, I'm but a fluddy bucking idiot.
Seared, SEARED I say! is what actually happened to a stupid fucking grunt-Marine in the years of 68-69. I spell it 'seered'
But what do I know?
You are my friend and I hoped you'd not 'diss' me so easily as any non-serving asshole might.
Marines are but a Department of the Navy, so I'll look/listen to you for attitude-guidance, but FUCK, Denny! You wounded me again!!
Enjoy your reminisce of 'Oly' on a pontoon.
While you & yours drank, I was deciding wether to shoot the woman who came at me at 0630 firing a rusty AK.
I mean you no ill-will whatsoever, but lay off of conjectured battle.
Dan
I stubbed three of my toes Wednesday and that, too, is seared in my memory.
Posted by: addison on September 26, 2004 04:44 AMOh Denny! The trauma you must have suffered. The therapy bills alone must be staggering!
Posted by: Denise on September 26, 2004 04:49 AMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm GROWL! Methinks Addison would make but sport of those who had three toes blown off on a sunny Wednesday in Quang Ngai Province.
Perhaps you are rich and can avoid such stubbing?
Enjoy your freedom! Somebody gave up something for the likes of you.
L/Cpl James K. Webb: Less than a month in country, he was the victim of a 'toe-popper' that did exactly as you have indicated. The stupid fucker never knew what hit him until he was laying on a med-evac pallet alongside of LZ412 on a gray & cloudy Wednesday afternoon.
Again, I say: Enjoy Your Freedom!
For those who fight for it, freedom has a taste the protected will never know.
Posted by: Dan S on September 26, 2004 05:05 AMKerry's weenie biking outfit is seared - seared, I tell you! - in my memory.
Right along with the "Best Friend" award he received from Vietnamese Communists...
Posted by: Lark on September 26, 2004 08:56 AMI wish they let us have beer out here.
Posted by: SPC Gaskin on September 26, 2004 09:27 AMP.S. more pictures are up, be warned, they are nonsense and somewhat narsasistic (check spelling). http://www.photos.yahoo.com/REIDGASKIN
Posted by: SPC Gaskin on September 26, 2004 09:41 AMI'm having another Vietnam flashback right now reading your memories. My Vietnamese neighbors had better stay indoors.
Posted by: Bagofflys on September 26, 2004 02:25 PMGaskin -
ever find yourself in SoCal or parts of Texas and there's cold beer awaiting. promise.
Denny -
"seared"? wow, makes me hungry. perhaps dinner will be seared ahi, or halibut, or shark.
Yep. As Pres said, that was Oly we were drinking. That was our beer of choice. For some reason, the Budweiser, which I had been weaned on tasted like piss and gave me headaches. Oly didn't. And look! I was smoking a cigarette!
Posted by: Denny Wilson on September 26, 2004 06:26 PMDan - Chill. I was making fun of Flipper. This was humor. Addison made a joke also. BTW his mother was career military.
Also the PBR guys, who were Navy, got to drink beer on the pontoon also.
Posted by: Denny Wilson on September 26, 2004 06:52 PMMy Bad.
It's just every time I see jokes and such regarding Viet Nam, it opens an old scab.
My Bad!
Keep me honest!
Posted by: Dan S on September 27, 2004 12:31 AM...and Grandfather (grunt in WWII, European Theatre).
Posted by: addison on September 27, 2004 04:25 AMDan-
My Dad missed the draft for Vietnam and has felt guity ever since because he didn't go. As a young man of 32 I know it doesn't mean a whole lot, but thank you for serving and doing what you did for our country. There is a whole generation of guys who got screwed in Vietnam. But for what it's worth, I hold you guys up in higher regards than even the other vets of wars past. Your generation spent more time in actual combat than most guys in WWII ever thought about ( even the AirBorne ). So know that my generation, at least some of us, know what you did for us.
Thanks
Posted by: Ned Pickle on September 28, 2004 02:37 AMNed:
On behalf of many faces I still see, many voices I still hear, thank you very much!
I think I can say that each saw a chance to give back something to the United States.
Posted by: Dan S on September 28, 2004 02:55 PM