Chapter 8
Michael relaxed at home for two weeks. His high school buddies were either in the military, working full-time jobs, or in college. So it was a little boring.
Eric was too busy partying with his friends to hang out with Michael.
His best friend Kevin was now in the Army, and his wife wanted nothing to do with being a military wife. So she divorced Kevin and soon married a local guy. This guy was a couple of years older and worked at Warner Brothers studio as a security guard.
Michael did not have his best friend to hang out. Kevin shipped out to Munich, Germany three weeks ago. Michael learned that home was no longer the same. He got Kevin's address in Munich from Kevin's mom and decided to write before left for Vietnam.
Leave was over. Michael went to McCord Air Force Base. Leaving home was hard for Michael. When Harry and Elaine took him to the bus station, he watched Elaine cry. Without thinking, he promised her that he would return home alive. It was a knee jerk reaction, as Michael wanted her tears to stop flowing. But this was a promise he didn't have any control over. But she knew that, as did Harry.
At McCord AFB in Washington, Michael boarded a Seaboard Airlines stretched DC-8 jet. He boarded the jet with two hundred and seventy other soldiers all bound for Vietnam. A few of these soldiers were actually on their second tour of that war. The DC-8 took off the runway of McCord AFB and hit the sky-bound for Vietnam.
The flight of that DC-8 had a short refueling stop. They stopped in Anchorage, Alaska, Japan, Okinawa. It finally landed in Cam Rahn Air Base, South Vietnam. The flight took twenty-three hours.
It was the end of April. It was a sunny day with the hot temperature around eighty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.
Michael rode on an Army bus to the administration building. Here he would get processed into this country. After that, he got a room in the temporary barracks. He was in a wait mode for transportation to his assigned unit.
While he waited, Michael spent time relaxing at the beach at Cam Rahn Bay. He even borrowed a surfboard from one of the soldiers and went surfing. He thought Vietnam was pretty cool duty so far. It reminded him so much of California with the beach parties and tons of beer drinking.
The next day arrived, and all this fun in the Vietnam sun would all change. A Huey flew over to Cam Rahn Bay Air Base to transport Michael to his unit.
Michael sat in the Flight Operations building at the air base. With him were Warrant Officers One Pete Oliver, Frank McFadden, and Albert Biannotti. They learned they were all at Fort Rucker during the same time but were in different classes.
Michael started to nod off in his chair. "I need Biannotti, Grayson, Frank, and Oliver," a voice bellowed out.
Michael opened up his eyes and saw 1st Lieutenant (1LT) Billy Burrows standing at the door in a flight suit.
"I'm Grayson," he said while he stood up.
"McFadden here," he said while he stood up.
"You got Biannotti," he said while he stood up.
"And Oliver here," he said while he stood up.
"I'm Lieutenant Billy Burrows. Follow me, and we'll get you to your new home away from home," he said then turned around and walked out of the room.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert picked up their duffel bags and walked out of the room.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert walked out of the flight operations building. They followed Billy over to a Huey parked on the tarmac.
Michael walked down along the tail rotor blade of the Huey. He noticed a couple of bullet holes in the tail section. Frank, Pete, and Albert saw the bullet holes and looked a little concerned.
Billy noticed they saw the bullet holes in the tail section. "Welcome to Vietnam."
"Guys, meet Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert our new replacement pilots," Billy said. "That's Chuck Murphy the crew chief and Jesse Cooper my X-ray or copilot," Billy added.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert tossed their duffel bags in the cargo area of the Huey. They climbed after their bags and sat down on the canvas seat and buckled in for the ride.
Chuck got behind the machine gun while Jesse got in the cockpit along with Billy.
Ten minutes later and Billy had the blades of the Huey slicing their way through the air. He soon received permission from the control tower, and he lifted the Huey off the tarmac.
He ascended the Huey off into the Vietnam sky. Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert had a bird's eye view of the beach area of Cam Rahn Bay. They thought Vietnam was a cool place so far, especially seeing all the people having a blast on the beach.
Billy banked the Huey and headed southwest.
A little while later, Billy flew the Huey at two thousand feet above the Vietnam countryside. Chuck scanned the area had his machine ready for the sight of any VC.
It looks peaceful. Michael thought to himself while he glanced out at the quiet countryside. He saw hilly areas, rivers, and tons of jungle. It was hard to imagine a war going on down there.
Twenty minutes later, Billy flew the Huey about thirty miles southwest of Cam Rahn Air Base. They were about twelve miles north of Tan Son.
"We'll be landing at your new home soon. It's called Landing Zone Lola," Billy yelled out at guys.
"It's the home of the Cong Crushers," Chuck yelled out.
Billy made his radio call to the LZ that he was inbounds for a landing.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert glanced out the opened cargo door area and saw Landing Zone (LZ) Lola. The place did not look like a home away from home.
Billy started the Huey's descent to LZ Lola after receiving permission to land.
From the air, Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert glanced down at LZ Lola. They saw concertina and razor wire and bunkers with machine guns around the perimeter of the LZ.
They saw rows of Army green canvas tents with sandbag revetments around them.
They saw landing areas with metal revetment walls for the Hueys. Some Hueys were there, and they saw some bare spots meaning others were out on a mission.
They saw ten soldiers playing football in a dirt area.
They saw six soldiers milling around the LZ.
They saw four soldiers relaxing lounge chairs catching some sun rays.
Billy landed the Huey in one of the opened landing spots behind the metal revetment wall.
Billy shut the Huey down, and the blades slowed. Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert grabbed their duffel bags and hopped out of the chopper.
They followed Billy, Chuck, and Jesse out of the helicopter landing area. They noticed two other Hueys starting up their engines.
Two squads of Cong Crushers walked up to those Hueys.
The Cong Crushers were ready for action with their M-16s and Rucksacks on their backs. Inside the Rucksacks are canteens of water, a gas mask, food rations, grenades, a machete, a poncho liner, ammo, and other personal items.
Michael and the other new guys followed Billy while they walked past a sign that had "Welcome to LZ Lola. Home of the Cong Crushers" written on it. The sign had a cartoon. It was a monstrous Army soldier in sleeveless fatigues and bulging muscles with an M-16 in one hand. With his right boot, he stomped on a Vietcong (VC). We see the VC's head sticking out from under the soldier's boot with his eyes bugging out.
Michael looked back and saw that cartoon from the sign was the nose art on all the Hueys parked in the landing area. But each Huey had a different number on the fatigue shirt of the muscular soldier. The chopper that picked him up at Cam Rahn Bay was Crusher 6.
Cool! He thought to himself while he continued to follow Billy, Chuck, and Jesse into the tent area.
"Who paints the artwork?" Michael asked Billy.
"Corporal Marty Abbott," Billy replied.
Then the strong stench of a sewer smell hit their senses like a brick wall.
"What the hell is that smell?" Michael asked while he pinched off his nose.
"Fucking stinks," Albert added.
Pete and Frank nodded in agreement, looking like they wanted to get sick any second.
"We burn the shit from the latrines," Chuck replied while he pointed in the direction of the stench.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert looked where Billy pointed. They saw four privates standing by three small metal barrels that were on fire.
"Welcome to Nam," Billy said while he got a chuckle at the guys who could not believe they burn shit here.
Billy, Chuck, and Jesse walked Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert down a dirt path between tents.
They noticed all the tents had sandbags stacked three-four feet high all around them. Each tent also had a wood floor installed.
They stopped at the opening of the large Operations tent. This tent holds briefings and other meetings.
Billy took Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert into the Operations tent. Chuck and Jesse walked away.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert stepped inside the tent. They saw twelve helicopter pilots sitting in folding chairs in their flight suits. They all faced a table.
Sitting behind a table was Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Rodney Harrington. He was a sixteen-year career man with the Army.
LTC Harrington was the Commander of LZ Lola. He sat there, puffing on a cigar.
Sitting to Harrington's right was Master Sergeant (MSG) James Porter. He was a middle aged brute with a crew cut and had been in the Army for twenty-three years. MSG Porter had a Camel cigarette that dangled from his mouth. He was a chain smoker and started when he was a teenager. He demanded you called him "Sarge."
The pilots were bullshitting while Billy escorted the guys to the table.
"Here are your FNGs," Billy told Harrington while the four guys dropped their duffel bags to the floor.
Harrington banged on the table a couple of times with his fist to bring the tent to order. He took the cigar out of his mouth. "Gentlemen. May I have your attention?"
The tent got quiet while all eyes were on Michael and the other three guys.
"I would like to introduce our new FNGs," Harrington addressed everybody in the tent.
Michael looked a little confused with the FNG acronym.
"Okay you FNGs, I'm Colonel Harrington, and this is Master Sergeant Porter otherwise known as Sarge." Welcome to LZ Lola," Harrington said then puffed on his cigar. He looked over at Sarge and nodded.
Sarge reached down at a box on the wooden floor. He removed four black baseball caps that each had the white "FNG" letters on the front.
Sarge got up from the table with his cigarette dangling out of his mouth.
He walked over to Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert. He handed them each a baseball cap.
Sarge walked over and sat down at the table.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert looked confused while glancing at the caps held in their hands.
"I would now like our FNGs to introduce themselves and tell us where they're from," Harrington told the four guys.
Michael, Frank, Pete, and Albert looked at each other to see who would go first.
Pete motioned he would go first. "My name is Pete Oliver. I'm from West Chester, Pennsylvania," he said while he looked around the room at everybody.
"It's an Amish puke. Where's your horse and buggy? And you better watch out for them road apples up in the sky," WO2 Wally Ross yelled out.
Some of the other pilots chuckled.
"My name is Frank McFadden. I'm from Boston, Massachusetts," Frank said while he looked around the tent at everybody.
"Hey, we can have an old fashion tea party and eat some beans," WO3 Butch Paulson called out.
Some of the other pilots chuckled.
Then one of the pilots shoved his left hand under his right armpit and made fart sounds.
Michael looked a little nervous. "My name is Michael Grayson. I'm from Glendale, California," Michael said, waiting for his heckling.
"The only things that come out of California are queers and steers. Which one are you?" WO2 Timmy Edison yelled out.
"He can be my peter pilot anytime," WO2 Chris Moody yelled out and blew some kisses at Michael.
"Moooo," yelled out another pilot.
Most of the other pilots chuckled.
Albert looked nervous with all the heckling. "My name is Albert Biannotti, and I'm from Brooklyn," he said and didn't look around the tent.
"Hey. You one greasy meatta balla," 1LT Doug Daily yelled out.
Some of the pilots chuckled.
"As part of your initiation, you must wear those caps at all times during your first three days here at LZ Lola. Home of the," Harrington said then stopped and looked at the pilots. He placed his cigar back in his mouth while he waited for their answer.
"Cong Crushers!" all the pilots yelled out in unison and stomped their right boots hard on the wooden floor. It echoed inside the tent.
Harrington puffed on his cigar with a smile, as he loved it when his troops did that foot-stomping tradition.
The heckling intimidated Michael and the other new guys. But they knew it as a game. They hoped.
Michael could not stand the curiosity and had to ask. "Excuse me, sir. But what does FNG mean?"
Harrington looked at the pilots for the answer.
"Fucking new guy!" all the pilots yelled out in unison.
Sarge looked down at a clipboard on the table. "Norton, Oliver will be your X-ray," he called out with his Camel still dangling from the right corner of his mouth.
WO3 Rusty Norton stood up.
Sarge looked back at his clipboard. "Doug, McFadden will be your X-ray," he called out.
Doug Daily stood up.
Sarge looked back at this clipboard. "Rathburn, Grayson will be your X-ray," he called out.
1LT Alan Rathburn stood up.
Sarge looked back at his clipboard. "Decker, Biannotti will be your X-ray," he called out.
WO2 Nathan Decker stood up.
"Okay, FNGs. These are your aircraft commanders. They'll take you to your bunks and get you orientated to Nam. Dismissed," Harrington called out then took a puff on his cigar.
Harrington and Sarge got up from the table and walked over to the tent opening and left the tent.
Rusty, Doug, Alan, and Nathan walked over to their applicable FNG.
Alan extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Alan Rathburn. Let's go get you a bunk," he said while he shook Michael's hand.
"Michael Grayson," he said while he picked up his duffel bag and walked out of the tent with Alan.
A few minutes later, Michael and Alan walked down a dirt path between rows of tents.
"If you don't mind me asking, what does peter pilot mean?" Michael asked Alan.
"Peter pilot is another word for X-ray or copilot," Alan replied then stopped at the flaps of a tent. "Welcome to your new hooch away from home."
Michael glanced up and saw "Lola Hilton" hand-painted with white paint on a piece of scrap wood above the tent flaps.
Alan and Michael went inside the ten-man tent.
The tent was empty as everybody was out and about the LZ or on a mission.
Alan walked Michael up to an empty bunk.
"You can sleep here," he said.
Michael dropped his duffel bag on top of the canvas bunk.
"There's a locker you can store your stuff inside. You can get a lock out of supply. Make sure you lock it at all times. We've been having some reports of cash, and other odds and ends are showing up missing. Colonel Harrington will court-martial the asshole once caught," Alan said.
"Got it," Michael replied.
"I'll show you around the landing zone today. Tomorrow we'll go on a supply run. That'll get you familiar with the area," Alan said.
Michael followed Alan out of the Lola Hilton.
For the next fifteen minutes, Alan gave Michael the grand tour of his new home. He even got Michael an M-16 rifle and some ammo. Everybody had an M-16 by their bunk in case the LZ got attacked.
The rest of the evening was boring. So Michael walked around the LZ a few times, and after a while, they even got boring.
After he met and chatted with a few of the soldiers in Lola, he retired back to the Lola Hilton and lay down on his bunk.
He grabbed a pad of paper and pen from his locker. He started to write a letter to his parents and then one to Kevin to let him know he was now in Vietnam.
After Michael sealed up the letters and dropped the two enveloped off in the mailbag at the Lola. He then retired back to the Lola Hilton and got on top of his bunk. A far cry from his warm bed back home, but it was better than sleeping in the dirt. He started to drift off to sleep, but then he had the feeling he had to go to the bathroom. He tried to fight it off but knew he wouldn't win this battle.
He got out of his bunk and headed out of the tent.
Michael walked through the dark LZ Lola and found the latrine area.
They were eight wooden outhouses.
They are far away from the Eloquent Army Cuisine tent, and the Party Palace.
The outhouses in an area where the prevailing winds would carry the stench away from everybody in the LZ. The entrance had a piece of scrap wood with the painted "Shitter Way" label. Each outhouse was labeled with its number of "Shitter 1, Shitter 2, etc.,"
He went inside Shitter 3 and sat down on the first toilet seat over a hole that led to a metal barrel. He pulled his fatigue pants and boxer shorts down to his ankles. He sat down on the toilet seat. He almost gagged from the smell of the buckets full of human waste below his butt cheeks. It would take him a long while to get used to this gagging smell.
"This was not in the magazine ads for Army chopper pilots," he said and started his business.
Michael finished, and he headed back to the Lola Hilton.
Michael got back in his bunk.
The night was quiet at LZ Lola, and Michael was soon in a deep sleep.