You don’t stand up to get a better shot

“It was time to buy my army jeep and get on the road to Cambodia”

Bangkok was a city flooded with soldiers on their Rest and Rehabilitation (R&R) in Thailand. Vietnam was at its peak, just 600 miles away.

I was looking for a surplus jeep and trailer in Thailand to drive into Cambodia, maybe make some money bring in gasoline.

Who better to talk to than guys in the US Army!

I grew up on war stories, my father did four years convoy duty, and I joined the militia when I was 17.

I was also saturated with the anti Vietnam War sentiment, especially from hitchhiking in the United States. Every Greyhound Station had a draft dodger or a kid who was AWOL, crying on the pay phone to his parents or his girl friend while trying to dodge the Military Police.

I had utmost respect for the American soldiers I was hanging out with … they were in the middle of a war and people were getting killed and seriously injured.

I had watched John Wayne’s Green Beret before I arrived in South East Asia and knew that this film on the war was propaganda, laughable bullshit.

As explained by the R&R guys, “This is not like your father’s war. “The enemy in the South were indistinguishable … the insurgent Vietcong were walking among the Americans or, like the North Vietnamese, were invisible in the jungle

These guys, and I talked to a lot of them, were just not into it. It’s not as if they were burnt out. They were jaded, cynical, and basically going through the motions until they could go back home.

This is not to say all the Vietnam guys were like that. I also met gung-ho types patrolling tough terrain and dangerous conditions.

But there were others like the guy who told me that on 9 o’clock patrol if there was any hint of enemy they would lie on their backs, empty their M16 automatics, then head back. As I was told more than once, “You don’t stand up to get a better shot.”

Whether city or jungle or rice paddy, it seemed to be the same drill … head out at 9 and be back in time for the electronic reporting to Secretary of Defense McNamara. It was described as useless process and endless reporting to show Washington that something was being done.

No one was striving to defeat the enemy or win a battle or secure new territory or strategic position. It was paralyzed status quo and stalemate.

As one coffee buddy described their war as a sham. They staked out a Saigon park, called in engineers and cleared out bushes. They fenced and barb wired the perimeter then lit up every square inch for night patrols. Their war was a circle patrol two or three times in the 24 hours inside the fence, all duly reported.

The tactics were basically beyond useless. But they also knew the senior people in charge did not know what the f*ck they were doing, and had no idea what was going on in Vietnam. Much of the venom was directed at the bean counter, Defense Secretary Robert Strange McNamara … every grunt in Vietnam knew his middle name.

The stakes were high. People were getting killed and badly injured for a cause no one believed in.

Far different esprit d’corp and morale from the Rhodesian mercenaries I had been travelling with in West Australia … they were hired help, but had a professional disciplined approach to fighting for their culture and way of life in Africa. Big difference between an American GI in Vietnam and a Rhodesian Merc in Africa.

But enough trying to figure out the Vietnam soldier; it was time to buy my army jeep and get on the road to Cambodia.

Then I got my visit!

He was in uniform, came to our hangout, offered me a coffee and said,

“Let’s sit down, I’ve got something to tell you.

You will not be going to Cambodia. “

I laughed, “Well that’s where I’m headed.”

“What you don’t know; what these soldiers here don’t know; nobody in the United States knows; … this war is also in Cambodia. The U.S. Army can’t let you go.”

“First I’ve heard of this.”

“It’ll be announced in Time magazine in a few months.”