"Homer’s story is remarkable."
By Eric Raits
Wayne Karlin’s book, “Wandering Souls”, about Homer’s story is also remarkable
with Wayne’s word craft, the story has bounced back and forth between my heart
and soul since I read it. It’s one of the few books I started reading over as
soon as I
had finished it.
Homer’s and my experiences shared many commonalities. We saw combat in
Vietnam in many of the same places in the Central Highlands. The names brought
back a flood of memories: Pleiku, Dak To, Ban Me Thuot, Kontum, Ia Drang Valley,
Mang Yang Pass.
Homer killed the enemy and I killed the enemy. That was our job. Homer killed a
man face-to-face when they encountered each other on a trail. I killed three men
but
at a distance, from a helicopter with an M-60 machine gun and only found out for
sure when the kills were confirmed later by ground units in the area.
Like the book’s author, Wayne, I was also a helicopter door gunner. Even with
the
enlisted rank of an SP-4, I had many things a lot better than an infantry
commanding officer like Homer. Most nights we flew back to Camp Holloway in
time for a late “shower” using coffee cans to dip water out of the 55-gallon
barrel
that our hooch maid filled for us, if she remembered, and if water had been
turned
on during the day.
While our hooch maids worked hard for their money. I’m sure many of them gladly
passed on what inside information they could to the “enemy.” These brave people
had been fighting invaders of their country for generations.
Each evening, we’d scrub down the helicopters and then ourselves and there was
usually time afterwards to head for the EM Club for a couple of beers. There was
no
EM Club or Officers Club out where Homer was beating the bushes; not to mention
that he was totally responsible for the lives of his entire company.
It was a time (1967) of increasing conflict between whites and blacks in the
Army.
Particularly among the desktop commandos. Out in the field, in combat, where
soldiers were quickly tested, it didn’t take much to realize there were good
reasons
to look deep inside the man next to you. I saw some drunken combat in the EM
Club at Camp Holloway on a few nights. Real combat had an element of bravery
that was missing from the tawdry fist fights I saw outside the EM Club after it
closed.
I was sent one day just outside the perimeter fence with a couple of Vietnamese
laborers to supervise the cutting of sod to be laid down around the officer’s
club. I
laid out where I wanted the sod to be cut and when the laborers had finished, a
giant
red-clay “FTA” appeared in the grass at the end of a runway. It could be seen
from
quite a ways off by aircraft taking off or landing. Bob Hope was due soon to put
on
his show, I believe at Camp Enari, and my punishment for the “FTA” was to miss
the event, stay on base and paint a large concrete flag pedestal white.
Our missions were mostly routine for the most part until the latter part of the
year.
We hauled civilians, USO personnel (Donut Dollies), and once we transported
Martha Raye from Camp Enari to a destination I don’t remember. Most of the time
we’d be in the air before dawn, fly to a SF outpost, and sit and wait all day.
We’d do
an occasional insertion of troops and we looked forward to hearing we could go
in
“hot,” firing our M-60s.
Suddenly in the last three months of ’67, everything changed. Unknown to us
General Giap was moving troops into the tri-border area in preparation for the
’68
Tet Offensive. We were getting shot at on a regular basis. I was on two
helicopters
that were disabled by enemy fire in the span of two or three days. My memory
says
two days, the Unit History says three days.
We then began a duty that rotated among the Assault Helicopter Companies at
Camp Holloway. We supported Special Forces out of the Kontum FOB in SOG
operations into Laos and Cambodia. We’d insert a team “across the fence” and
then wait for them to get into trouble. They almost always did, then we’d go get
them. Homer has put a few of my stories on his web page. I am hopeful that they
may add to people’s understanding of what war is actually like. It’s not a John
Wayne movie.
Thank you, Major Steedly. I hope one day to be able to give you a salute in
person.
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