Combat Veteran Music

[doublejj]

You earned so much and recieved so little. No way we can repay you for what you have done. But THANKS

Your welcome & thank you.

After Vietnam I kicked around for several years, going from job to job & never seemed to fit in. I never felt comfortable & I was having nightmares every night. It wasn't until I found a job that produced the same high risk, high adenaline environment, like Vietnam, that I settled down & the nightmares went away. I just retired a few years ago, from 25 years working inside Folsom Prison. The staff assault rate at Folsom is 30%, staff have a 1in3 chance of being assaulted at least once each year.
Much to my suprise, since my retirement, the nightmares have started to return, only I've added an additional 25years worth!
I use Medical Marijuana to help with PTSD, & the government tells me I don't have the right own a gun because I use MMJ.

[video=youtube;N5Ts4M3irWM]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=N5Ts4M3irWM[/video]

 

[doublejj]

As soon as I got home from Vietnam, I took the original grips off the .45, trying to make it look more 'civillian', & had rubber Pachmyre grips. Reciently, I found the original grips in the bottom of my sox drawer & I decided to put them back on. That's when I noticed the mud..........The grips were still covered with that red Vietnam mud!
I had cleaned the gun, but I just threw the grips in a drawer.
I guess I brought a little more of Vietnam back with me than I thought.

 

[doublejj]

For several years after I got home from Vietnam I wore this POW bracelet with the name of a Vietnam POW. I took it off when I found out he had been released from a North Vietnam POW prison in 1975. Something else I had in the sox drawer.

 

[Stillbuzzin]

Your welcome & thank you.

After Vietnam I kicked around for several years, going from job to job & never seemed to fit in. I never felt comfortable & I was having nightmares every night. It wasn't until I found a job that produced the same high risk, high adenaline environment, like Vietnam, that I settled down & the nightmares went away. I just retired a few years ago, from 25 years working inside Folsom Prison. The staff assault rate at Folsom is 30%, staff have a 1in3 chance of being assaulted at least once each year.
Much to my suprise, since my retirement, the nightmares have started to return, only I've added an additional 25years worth!
I use Medical Marijuana to help with PTSD, & the government tells me I don't have the right own a gun because I use MMJ.

[video=youtube;N5Ts4M3irWM]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=N5Ts4M3irWM[/video]

You have more right to own that 1911 than the dam people telling. you that you cant own it. Dam Im blind. Any way I hope you know what I mean.

 

[potpimp]

Curious2garden the C141 was an outstanding trash hauler; I'm VERY acquainted with them. But I've always said that the C130 is the best deal the DoD ever got on anything; not that is one multi-talented platform.

 

[curious2garden]

Chicks dig Huey's

LOL you know I've thought a lot about this. Philosophically I like Huey's but they never brought me anything I really wanted. Anyway one interesting thing I learned about recovering patients from Huey's (and other choppers), is don't wear a scrub dress. It's great for the pilot but damn hard to get your hands on the critically ill patient when your dress is over your head, duh. Especially when you are so damn green you don't wear panties under your pantyhose....

I thought that pilot was going to stroke he laughed so hard. Turned out everyone else knew this but they failed to pass this tidbit on to me. Part of gas lighting the newb. That was the day I stopped wearing scrub dresses, duh.

 

[doublejj]

LOL you know I've thought a lot about this. Philosophically I like Huey's but they never brought me anything I really wanted. Anyway one interesting thing I learned about recovering patients from Huey's (and other choppers), is don't wear a scrub dress. It's great for the pilot but damn hard to get your hands on the critically ill patient when your dress is over your head, duh. Especially when you are so damn green you don't wear panties under your pantyhose....

I thought that pilot was going to stroke he laughed so hard. Turned out everyone else knew this but they failed to pass this tidbit on to me. Part of gas lighting the newb. That was the day I stopped wearing scrub dresses, duh.

LOL!
Some of the bravest men I ever saw in Vietnam were Dust Off Medivac pilots...........True hero's every one!

 

[doublejj]

Vietnam Battle of Ia Drang valley, LZ Albany hero, saved many lives
More of his company's soldiers lived thru the battle, than the other 3 companies in the Battalion combined.
The real......... "run Forrest, run!"

[video=youtube;gmW11FKveJg]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=gmW11FKveJg[/video]

 

[curious2garden]

LOL!
Some of the bravest men I ever saw in Vietnam were Dust Off Medivac pilots...........True hero's every one!

Yes they were. I flew with them on a few occasions. Sometimes we had to shuffle patients about and well when you have to do it fast we'd take one out in the chopper while the others circled to bring more in. Of course being the youngster I got the nod. Suffice to say I get air sick. By that time I was smart enough to wear men's scrubs AND carry a couple bags. The pilot's tried, god love 'em, to keep it smooth but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

I felt so sorry for the patient's. When their LOC was enough to tell them the person they were depending on to keep them alive was as green as the bird they were in and currently hurling and sounding sicker than themselves...

 

[doublejj]

Yes they were. I flew with them on a few occasions. Sometimes we had to shuffle patients about and well when you have to do it fast we'd take one out in the chopper while the others circled to bring more in. Of course being the youngster I got the nod. Suffice to say I get air sick. By that time I was smart enough to wear men's scrubs AND carry a couple bags. The pilot's tried, god love 'em, to keep it smooth but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

I felt so sorry for the patient's. When their LOC was enough to tell them the person they were depending on to keep them alive was as green as the bird they were in and currently hurling and sounding sicker than themselves...

Thanks soo much for your service & everything you went thru. But trust me, they were just happy to be on that chopper, puke & all! You were an angle from heaven at that point!

 

[curious2garden]

Thanks soo much for your service & everything you went thru. But trust me, they were just happy to be on that chopper, puke & all! You were an angle from heaven at that point!

I never served. I was just a nurse who worked trauma. And had either the good or bad fortune to work during a time it rained patients. When you are privileged to be allowed to be present when another person transitions from this life you have been honored. So though I never served I was lucky enough on occasion to render support to some who did and their thanks are all that was ever necessary.

But thank you for your kind thoughts.

 

[Stillbuzzin]

I never served. I was just a nurse who worked trauma. And had either the good or bad fortune to work during a time it rained patients. When you are privileged to be allowed to be present when another person transitions from this life you have been honored. So though I never served I was lucky enough on occasion to render support to some who did and their thanks are all that was ever necessary.

But thank you for your kind thoughts.

I have known for a while you are special. Thank You

 

[doublejj]

Jack Mapes Platoon Sgt

We had been pinned down for almost two days. The Sun is about an hour from setting. We are almost out of ammo our radio is dead and we don’t want to face another night surrounded by Viet Cong in the bush. Last night had been bad enough with plenty of ammo. But the combination of no ammo and no light just didn’t sit well with me. I low-crawl up the creek to check the rest of my squad. Everyone is still in good shape but no one’s got more than a half dozen rounds of ammunition. It’s my call and my responsibility. I’m the Sarge in charge. I have to choose someone to send for help and I’ll probably be sending that someone to his death. I crawl back to my position thinking hard about alternatives and the fact that this mission has been a bust from the start.Yesterday morning my squad escorted a four-men demo team to blow a wooden bridge located a few clicks from our company’s position. We had no problems getting to the bridge and I was thinking ‘piece of cake’ mission. But I thought too damn soon. We set up a defensive perimeter and the demo team went to the bridge to do their thing. I wasn’t paying much attention until I saw the demo guy, who was carrying all the explosives, start walking across the bridge like he was on a Sunday stroll back in the world. I yelled a warning just as the sniper blew his left leg out from under him. He went down screaming holding his leg. My squad opened up with suppressive fire. Then despite all the training and yelling to ‘Take Cover’, ‘Get Down’, ‘Hit the Deck’. The rest of the demo team ran out on the bridge to aid their wounded buddy. When the rest of the demo team reached their wounded buddy, the sniper sprung the trap by shooting one of the demo packs. The entire demo team disappeared.So here we are pinned down, lost a whole demo team, out of food, only a few dozen rounds left, no grenades, no flares, no radio, the Sun is sinking swiftly, and out of cigarettes. There was only one thing left for me to do. I decided I’d have to go get some cigarettes. I low-crawled up the creek telling my men my plan. There’s a lot of volunteering, protesting, even some regulation citing but it’s my call. Back in my position I take a few quick looks over the creek bank trying to map out my best rout. It’s at least a hundred-and-fifty yards of rice paddies to the nearest cover. I toss my remaining ammo to my radio man. I tell him to take care of my 16 it’ll just slow me down. I signal my men then scramble up out of the creek bed in a dead run. I hear AKs open up but they haven’t got my number yet. When I feel the rounds getting too close I fall and lay still like I’m dead. I wait until I think they have relaxed, then jump up and run like a bandit again until the rounds get too close. Then fall again and play dead. Sometimes I make it ten yards and sometimes I make it twenty but it still seems like forever. I cuss my men because they are wasting their ammunition trying to throw off the VC’s aim. I think, ‘You dummies! I told you to save your darn ammo. What if I don’t make it?’ Their selflessness renews my determination, recharges my energy. I check my position. I figure I’ve got about another hundred yards. But my odds are improving as I get farther away from the enemy’s positions. I jump up and run like a rabbit. I feel good. The rounds kick up mud and rice plants all around me. I think about zig-zagging but don’t want to because my buddies are probably out of ammo by now and I don’t want to waste the time. I’m almost to the tree line now and nothing is going to stop me.Finally, I hit the treeline but I don’t stop running. I don’t have time to walk. All I can think of is my friends back there in that creek who thought nothing of themselves and used the last of their ammo to protect my worthless ass. I arrive at my company too winded to explain. I run to the ammo and grab as much ammo as I can carry. People are asking me questions but I can’t answer. I can only do what I came to do. A couple of guys get the idea, grab some ammo, their 16s and somebody else grabs an M-60. Finally I can speak and without stopping I relate the situation to the LT. Then I run back the way I’d come with the others close behind me. It’s still taking to damn long. My mind runs through all the depressing possibilities as we make our way toward my men in the creek. Then as we clear the treeline at the edge of the rice paddies I hear a chopper. It comes in low off to our left and opens up on the VC’s position. Thank GOD for Hueys.

​

 

[doublejj]

[video=youtube;yj1X2WpiiOE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=yj1X2WpiiOE[/video]

 

[Stillbuzzin]

Jack Mapes Platoon Sgt

We had been pinned down for almost two days. The Sun is about an hour from setting. We are almost out of ammo our radio is dead and we don’t want to face another night surrounded by Viet Cong in the bush. Last night had been bad enough with plenty of ammo. But the combination of no ammo and no light just didn’t sit well with me. I low-crawl up the creek to check the rest of my squad. Everyone is still in good shape but no one’s got more than a half dozen rounds of ammunition. It’s my call and my responsibility. I’m the Sarge in charge. I have to choose someone to send for help and I’ll probably be sending that someone to his death. I crawl back to my position thinking hard about alternatives and the fact that this mission has been a bust from the start.Yesterday morning my squad escorted a four-men demo team to blow a wooden bridge located a few clicks from our company’s position. We had no problems getting to the bridge and I was thinking ‘piece of cake’ mission. But I thought too damn soon. We set up a defensive perimeter and the demo team went to the bridge to do their thing. I wasn’t paying much attention until I saw the demo guy, who was carrying all the explosives, start walking across the bridge like he was on a Sunday stroll back in the world. I yelled a warning just as the sniper blew his left leg out from under him. He went down screaming holding his leg. My squad opened up with suppressive fire. Then despite all the training and yelling to ‘Take Cover’, ‘Get Down’, ‘Hit the Deck’. The rest of the demo team ran out on the bridge to aid their wounded buddy. When the rest of the demo team reached their wounded buddy, the sniper sprung the trap by shooting one of the demo packs. The entire demo team disappeared.So here we are pinned down, lost a whole demo team, out of food, only a few dozen rounds left, no grenades, no flares, no radio, the Sun is sinking swiftly, and out of cigarettes. There was only one thing left for me to do. I decided I’d have to go get some cigarettes. I low-crawled up the creek telling my men my plan. There’s a lot of volunteering, protesting, even some regulation citing but it’s my call. Back in my position I take a few quick looks over the creek bank trying to map out my best rout. It’s at least a hundred-and-fifty yards of rice paddies to the nearest cover. I toss my remaining ammo to my radio man. I tell him to take care of my 16 it’ll just slow me down. I signal my men then scramble up out of the creek bed in a dead run. I hear AKs open up but they haven’t got my number yet. When I feel the rounds getting too close I fall and lay still like I’m dead. I wait until I think they have relaxed, then jump up and run like a bandit again until the rounds get too close. Then fall again and play dead. Sometimes I make it ten yards and sometimes I make it twenty but it still seems like forever. I cuss my men because they are wasting their ammunition trying to throw off the VC’s aim. I think, ‘You dummies! I told you to save your darn ammo. What if I don’t make it?’ Their selflessness renews my determination, recharges my energy. I check my position. I figure I’ve got about another hundred yards. But my odds are improving as I get farther away from the enemy’s positions. I jump up and run like a rabbit. I feel good. The rounds kick up mud and rice plants all around me. I think about zig-zagging but don’t want to because my buddies are probably out of ammo by now and I don’t want to waste the time. I’m almost to the tree line now and nothing is going to stop me.Finally, I hit the treeline but I don’t stop running. I don’t have time to walk. All I can think of is my friends back there in that creek who thought nothing of themselves and used the last of their ammo to protect my worthless ass. I arrive at my company too winded to explain. I run to the ammo and grab as much ammo as I can carry. People are asking me questions but I can’t answer. I can only do what I came to do. A couple of guys get the idea, grab some ammo, their 16s and somebody else grabs an M-60. Finally I can speak and without stopping I relate the situation to the LT. Then I run back the way I’d come with the others close behind me. It’s still taking to damn long. My mind runs through all the depressing possibilities as we make our way toward my men in the creek. Then as we clear the treeline at the edge of the rice paddies I hear a chopper. It comes in low off to our left and opens up on the VC’s position. Thank GOD for Hueys.

​

Thank you kindly for sharing. Please post more if you would like to share

 

[doublejj]

One day while patrolling in a sector of our AO that we had not been thru before, we came across an old mostly fallen down, barbed wire fence. There were no fences shown on our maps. We wondered if we had strayed off course, but everything else said we were where we were supposed to be. While waiting for further instructions before we crossed the wire, one of our squad found an old sign, facing out, on the fence wire. You could barely read it, but it was in French........French?.......We radioed what we could make out of the French words, and got a real suprise to find out we had just walked thru an old French mine field!
The things you don't find in the jungle!

 

[potpimp]

There's a mil-speak term for that JJ: "FARFU".

 

[doublejj]

There's a mil-speak term for that JJ: "FARFU".

LOL!.....Do you mean "TARFU"; "Things Are Really Fucked Up"?.....
or FUBAR........."Fucked Up Beyond All Repair"?
or SNAFU........."Situation Normal, All Fucked Up"?.............lol!

 

[potpimp]

LMAO, a damn typo; yes it was supposed to be TARFU. I'm 61 but I tested 20/16 vision less than a year ago. It's still a little fuzzy in the mornings.

 

[doublejj]

The most humbling experience of my life had to be the time I was waiting for the bus (a 2 1/2 ton truck) at the bus stop on Binh Thuy to go into Can Tho for the afternoon. There were three of us all waiting together and, as usual, not paying too much attention as to what was going on around us. We heard a beep-beep from a jeep horn and the driver asked us if we wanted a ride into town. Well this kind of luxury did not come often so we all jumped in. I ended right behind the driver. Shortly after we left the base the driver asked how we liked Viet Nam. Being out spoken anyway, I told him exactly how much I liked Nam. Unfortunately, I did not spare the language that most of us spoke when in a bunker with our M60's. I raved on-and-on while one of my buddies kept elbowing me in the ribs. Finally, I exhausted my feelings about Nam. The rest of the ride went rather quietly. Our driver let us out downtown at our location of request. As I exited the jeep I noticed that small silver cross on his collar. I never even got his name as I was only concerned with making myself as small and invisible as possible by that time.
Later, I wished I could have apologized to the Chaplain but I never saw him around the base again. The weight of that little Bible I carried in my upper left shirt pocket seemed a little heavier for a few days until I finally apologized to the proper deity. Needless to say, from that time on, when ever someone asked how I liked Nam I was a little softer on the description.