Turtles Enjoying the Sunshine
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Vietnam: Transferred to A Village Platoon
The more I thought about what was going on down below in the village—how they were under attack every night from the Vietcong (Communist guerillas)—the more I wanted to be down there to help out. And I have to admit that it wasn’t just my compassion and good will showing; it was also my desire to fight. I had been in Vietnam for almost six months and I hadn’t been in a good battle yet. I wanted more out of that war. Maybe I was guilty of being too aggressive and a war monger. But then, I think God has gifted some of us with that war-like desire—in order to fight the enemy.
So, anyway, I prayed about it; and I felt a peace to put in for a transfer from where I was, at hill 52, to the Marine unit below us in the village. And to my surprise, my transfer came through very quickly, in about a week. I don’t remember how I got there, but I probably just walked; the village was only about one-half mile away by the main road (a gravel road).
The Marine unit in the village was a lot different than on hill 52. They weren’t all dug in and they didn’t have bunkers or barricades of any sort. Most of them were living in their own make-shift shelter in the middle of the village, and a few of them were scattered around among the village people.
While I was pondering where I would unload my gear (the little I had), a young Vietnamese girl grabbed my hand and started to pull me. She wanted me to come to her hutch. I could see that there was no objection among the Marines to go where I wanted, so I followed her to where she lived. There I met her mother and father and they gladly welcomed me. It was immediately apparent that they wanted me to stay with them. Communication wasn’t the best with the older folks, but I surmised that they felt comfortable having Marines living with them; maybe they felt safer. The little girls name was Sum. She was friendly, but at the same time very shy. Her mother and father were also very friendly and welcoming; but, unlike Sum, they hardly knew a word of English.
Since servicemen, both Marines and Army, had been in Vietnam for about ten years, the kids knew English almost as well as their own language. All the older folks didn’t bother to learn English; but of course, they had the kids to translate for them. We also depended on the kids to help us communicate to their parents. And that was helpful when we needed to relay important messages to them, like when we needed them to stay in their homes at night and not to go roaming around. That was critical, especially when we knew that the enemy was close by. We didn’t want any of the villagers to be hurt. And that was the main function of our unit—to protect the village.
Besides Sum, there was also a boy about the same age (about 10) that came up to me asking if I needed any help. His name was Leam (pictured). He was also kind of shy, but not as much as Sum. I didn’t need too much help, but he did help me wash my clothes and a few other things. Of course, the kids all wanted to be paid for their work, and I was glad to pay them.
One of the greatest blessings I received from my transfer to that unit and from my stay with Sum and her family, was my fellowship with them at meal time and the sharing of food. Typically, most of what they ate was white rice (which they grew in their own rice patties) and just a very little bit of fish or some kind of meat mixed in a hot fish sauce called nuoc mam. Well, since they have so very little meat, they were quite grateful to me when I offered some of my meat from my c-rations to them. Eventually, I decided to just share all of my meat (whatever it was) with everyone, and they in turn gave me as much rice as I wanted. I felt so blessed to share meals with them.
Of Monsters and Beasts — -Wings of the Dawn-
I came in the house carried food from afar Like women of old, who shopped at bazaars. Was tired and beat from reading the signs, From standing on blue tape and waiting in lines. “How was it?” my hubs and all the kids asked. I collapsed in the chair and took off my mask. “Oh, […]
Of Monsters and Beasts — -Wings of the Dawn-
Vietnam: Glasses, Chaplain and Coke
There was always something to take you away from your regular duties. My diversion was that I needed glasses. I can’t remember what happened to them. Either I lost them, or they broke. Anyway, after going without them for at least a month, I finally realized that I should try to get them replaced—mainly, so that I could see what I was shooting at. Yea, that might be important. So, I reported my situation to the commander and they sent me to hill 65, right down the road. I don’t remember exactly how I got my glasses, only that it took a while. I was on that hill for about two weeks waiting for them to come.
But while I was waiting, they put me to work. I remember so well what happened on the first day I arrived. An older high-ranking Marine came to me and said, “We need someone to make salads in our kitchen, You’re our man.” He didn’t ask me if I thought I could do it; he just assumed I could. Next, he led me into the kitchen, showed me the weekly menu and what time to have the salads ready. I was a little surprised that he had so much confidence in me, without really knowing me. It was almost like he was commanding me to do it, and at the same time believing that I could. Well, just because he had so much trust in me, I felt motivated and empowered. And you know what? I made some pretty good salads. Every day of the week I made a different kind of salad. Monday was shredded carrots and raisons. Tuesday it was coleslaw. And Wednesday it was something else. Hey, I was a cook! Hard to believe. And no one complained. Oh, by the way, in case you’re wondering, hill 65 was more than your typical fighting unit, hence the hot chow and even a kitchen.
Another memorable experience on hill 52 was when the Chaplain came and brought hot food and a bag of gifts for everyone. The hot food: turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, etc., was so good, but I wasn’t use to it and it made me sick. Everyone in Vietnam had dysentery, but the hot food made it worse. Oh well, I guess it was worth it. I also really liked the gifts the Chaplain brought: a little living New Testament, some stationary, and a few other things. Everyone like it when the Chaplain came. He was like Santa Claus. And they liked it also that his sermons were short.
Another vivid memory was one day when our squad was out in the middle of nowhere on a very hot day on a security detail, and along came a Vietnamese boy on a bicycle with a case full of ice-cold cokes. At that time a can of coke was only about 5 cents, but he was selling them for 50 cents. He was making quite a prophet, especially since it was so hot and everyone was buying them. I remember marveling at his salesmanship and shrewdness. And there were also, occasionally, girls coming by, selling their bodies. Surprisingly, most of the guys gave in, but not me. God had shielded me from that particular temptation.
I want to mention one more memorable thing that was constantly going on within visual range of hill 52: the day time bombing missions in the air, and the evening fire fires on the ground. I remember watching the fighter jets sweep down on a target, and then, when they almost hit the ground, turn sharply at about a 90% angle, and head up to the sky again. It was quite a show. And they were doing that constantly it seemed. But I never knew what they were shooting at. Maybe nothing. Maybe it was all practice, or just to give us a show.
As far as the fire fights below, that was not just a show. We could see intermittent tracer rounds going back and forth across a field (On a machine gun, usually every fifth round was a tracer round: a round that appeared as a red streak, with the purpose of gauging how close you were coming to your target). On one side, to our right, the bullets were coming from Marines guarding a Vietnamese village; and on the other side there was a tree line where the Vietcong were hiding. I often wondered how the Marines were doing, and if they were suffering casualties.
Vietnam: Letters, Cards and C-Rations
Contrary to what some people probably think about the Vietnam war, we weren’t always in battles, fighting for our lives. There was actually a lot of down time in-between patrols. And as I remember, our platoon commander was fairly easy-going and didn’t give us a lot of extra duties; just the necessary things like outhouse duty, consisting of burning and dumping the sewage barrels.
During most of my down time, I wrote letters. Most of the guys didn’t do that so much, but I would write at least one letter a day. My pen pals were mainly my mom, a man from my church, and about three or four different girls. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not some kind of a lady’s man. I was just trying to stay somewhat sane, and I guess I liked people (girls) telling me that they were thinking of me and praying for me. At first Joy, the one I was so crazy about in high school, would write me quite often. But after about 3 or 4 months, she didn’t write quite so often. I actually felt relieved, because I didn’t feel that our relationship was right—of the Lord. Then this other very young girl (about 14 years old) started writing me and even sending me packages of cookies, etc. As I wrote previously, she got my address in Stars and Stripes, a military newspaper. Anyway, she wrote me very consistently all through Vietnam and sent goodies. What a ministry she had to me. I remember witnessing to her and she actually became a Christian, but I’m not sure how that happened or what influence I had on her. After I got back from Vietnam and was discharged, I went to visit her and met her mother. I was praying that maybe we could make a connection (a date), but it never happened. I wish I could remember her name. The other couple of girls that I wrote, it wasn’t as often, but I was glad to get their letters and their appreciation of my service.
Sometimes I would join in a game of cards. We always played the same game. I think it was called “back alley.” It was fun and helped to get our mind off of whatever was bothering us. Some of us were just bored. Some of us, like me, would almost rather be patrolling—doing what we came there to do.
Our meals came every day with the mail and supplies—from a helicopter. Generally, it was 2 C-rations a day. One meal consisted of a can of meat and potatoes or something similar, a can of some kind of fruit, a small can of crackers with a chocolate patty, and a small carton of cigarettes (about four in each carton). Every meal had cigarettes in it, so if you weren’t a smoker when you came to Vietnam, there was a good chance that you were a smoker when you left. I smoked for a short time, but not enough to give me the habit. Besides, I didn’t want to have one more thing to make my mom upset about.
Oh, each box of C-rations also included a heat tablet, some matches, a plastic fork and spoon, and a package of instant coffee. Some guys chose to eat their food cold, but I was more civilized and always heated mine up and made coffee too. I think Vietnam is where I got the coffee habit. Now the way I would heat my food up is to make holes in my empty cracker can, turn it over, and put the heat tablet under it. It made a great stove. The heat tablet we had for each meal would burn just long enough to heat up your food and make coffee. I really got to like C-rations. Mmm good! Can you tell that it doesn’t take much to keep me contented? Thanks to God, I seem to learn very easily how to be content in every circumstance.
Vietnam: Security Watch
In addition to weekly platoon patrols, we almost daily went on squad patrols, mainly just for security around our location—hill 52. The patrolling never lasted more than a couple hours, but once in a while the squad leader decided to cheat. That is, we didn’t really go where we were expected to go. I remember, on one occasion we went over the first hill to our first check-point, and just sat there for the entire time. We were always required to call in at every check-point to report. Well, we called in every 15 minutes or so and pretended that we were at the next check-point. I wasn’t in favor of it, but most of the squad justified it, explaining to me that it wasn’t worth the risk of someone getting killed. I could understand their reasoning, but yet it still didn’t sit right with me. And I hated just sitting there doing nothing.
In addition to patrolling—and fake patrolling—we also occasionally just sat and watched. I don’t remember what the exact reason was, but on one occasion 4 or 5 groups of 2 Marines per location sat alongside a gravel road. We sat there most of the day doing nothing. I suppose we were there just to let people know that there were Marine in the area. And it was hot. So, I found a couple long branches and made a shelter for shade out of my poncho liner (pictured). Some of the guys never thought of doing anything like that, but for some reason I was always thinking of ways to make the most of the situation.
Night watch was most important. Whether we were away on patrol or at our home base, it was so important to have at least one guy awake and watching. The enemy would often strike at night when most were asleep. And if the watchman fell asleep, which occasionally happened, that put the squad in grave danger. I remember many a time while on watch, I struggled to stay awake. I often used the time to pray and quote Scripture. Here’s one that I probably thought of:
Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak (Matthew 26:41).
How Will We Be Rewarded At the Bema Judgment?
I think the best reward we will get is to hear Jesus say to us in front of all, “Well done My good and faithful servant.” That alone will be enough. But He has more in store for us that will be a joy to us for eternity. Our reward for eternity will be ownership of land, rulership, and areas of responsibility.
By land ownership. According to Randy Alcorn, from his book, Heaven, we will be “pioneers and settlers on the New Earth.”3 The term “inherit the earth” is God’s promise to those who fear Him and wait on Him, and is a term that suggests land ownership on the New Earth (and, I think, also on the new millennial earth). But if you are not particularly excited about owning land, you could also think of it as being prosperous. And I doubt that you will…
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Vietnam: Large Patrols
I arrived in Vietnam in February of 1970. I had just missed most of the fighting, which mainly occurred during the Tet Offensive in 1968. So, I guess you could say that I was part of the clean-up crew. We were there to mainly watch over the area and stop any insurgency groups. Very rarely were we called on for any major offensive missions, but we went on patrol almost daily, just to look around and kill or capture any of the enemy forces that were still there—many of which were dug-in, hiding in underground bunkers and tunnels.
Our patrols were both by the entire platoon, made up of four or five squads—about forty Marines; and by squads—there were about eight in our squad. The larger, platoon patrols happened less often, maybe about once a week at the most. But the smaller squad patrols went out almost daily.
The platoon patrol always had more of a mission and sometimes lasted more than a day, and sometimes up to a week. The mission I remember most was when we went to the “Arizona Country.” I don’t know why they called it that; probably because it was always very hot there due to the tall elephant grass that would block the wind, but yet the sun would beat down on you. I remember that a couple guys fainted from heat exhaustion. I think those were the only casualties we had, even though, for a time, the enemy had us surrounded. It was kind of surreal. We didn’t know exactly where they were, because of the tall grass that was blocking our vision. Yet their ak bullets (from the AK 47) were zooming over our heads from all directions. I suppose we could have gone out to get them, but we weren’t that eager—or stupid. So, we just got very low and crawled away to safety.
Now that I think about it, there was another platoon mission that was equally memorable. I don’t remember exactly where we were patrolling, but at the end of the day we stopped at a clearing and were told to dig in. Sometimes we weren’t given the details of the mission; we were just given orders and were expected to follow them. So, the platoon made a perimeter and dug fox holes big enough for two or three guys each. That night we were fired on, but we didn’t see them. And a couple of grenades were also thrown our way, but not close enough to hurt anyone. Strangely, some of the rounds were coming from above, like they were in the trees. In one case we could see automatic tracer rounds coming from one location, but hitting in only one spot. There was only one explanation I could think of: there was a machine gun planted up in a tree and a guy below was pulling a string that was tied to the trigger.
As soon as it was light, the enemy fire seemed to end. So, we very cautiously gathered up our gear to depart. I remember that one guy who was not even in a fox hole, but was lying in the nearby grass, just stood up and stretched as if he was waking up from a deep sleep. We all quietly yelled, “Get down, are you crazy.” The truth is, he had probably been smoking Marijuana and had apparently slept through the whole night not knowing what went on that night.
The only casualty came just before we left. I don’t remember who it was, but he was sitting right next to me; and he stood up, took just two steps, and boom! He stepped on a small booby trap. It didn’t kill him, but the shrapnel cut him up pretty bad. We tried to comfort him by telling him, in between his cries of pain, that he would get a purple heart and would be going home. A metevac helicopter came within about fifteen minutes and took him away. I was so impressed at how fast they came.
Before we left, we called in napalm. That means that an airplane flew over and bombed the area all around us with napalm, which is a very hot incendiary explosive used to quickly burn out the enemy. It was standard practice to use napalm in Vietnam after such missions, especially if we knew that there were underground tunnels around, which we suspected there were.
Hurt Not the Oil and the Wine — Ernie’s Musings
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine. (Revelation 6:6) The Wuhan bug[1] continues to impact the world economy. Without a doubt, the virus presents […]
Hurt Not the Oil and the Wine — Ernie’s Musings
The Meaning of Intercession — From Daniel
The thing about Daniel that I appreciate most is his devotion to God and to a pure life. From his youth he “made up his mind that he would not defile himself” (Dan. 1:8). He also had a practice of praying on his knees three times a day (6:10); and much of his praying was with fasting (9:3; 10:3). If we are to stand in the gap for others this must also be our manner of life and devotion. We must lose ourselves for God and for others. In the following prayer of Daniel’s, in Daniel 9: 1-19, we learn a great deal about what intercession is.
In the first year of Darius the son of Ahasuerus, of Median descent, who was made king over the kingdom of the Chaldeans — 2 in the first year of his reign I, Daniel, observed in the books the number of the…
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Stephen Nielsen 