A Memory from Vietnam
--Bill Petite
When I got to Vietnam and assigned to my rifle company in the 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, I was told that most guys get wounded or killed in the third or ninth month of their tour. I didn’t ask questions and didn’t think much about that because I was seeing guys wounded and killed in every month. But I didn’t know which month of their tour it was. I’ll never forget the first man I saw wounded. I didn’t see him but I did see part of his leg flying through the air after he stepped on a pressure release mortar round buried in the ground. He stepped on it and when he lifted his foot, or released the pressure, it blew and took the lower part of his leg off. I saw him after the explosion; he was calm, in shock, and was being prepared for a medivac. We were in a heavily booby-trapped area and we were always told to follow in the footsteps of the man in front of us. That is unless he didn’t follow in the footsteps of the man in front of him and he stepped on a booby trap.
I wasn’t a Christian when I was in Vietnam but I
prayed every night to a God I didn’t know. I was in church as a young boy and
my parents were Christians, although backslidden. So, I knew all about Jesus
but not as my savior. I would tell Him, “I’ll give up a finger or something
small just to get out of here.” But that all changed after I witnessed that
first booby trap incident. Following that, it was simply, “Lord, get me out of
here in one piece.” I prayed that almost every night and over time, God calmed
my nerves and gave me the boldness required to survive that mess. And, as I
said, I didn’t even know God as my personal savior yet.
The 5th Marines operated in an area known
as the Arizona Territory. It was named after the old west Arizona Territory
which was known for an area where there was a lot of bad stuff going on all the
time. Gun battles with each other, with Native American tribes, ambushes by
everyone, thieves and other bad and illegal activity. The Arizona Territory in
South Vietnam was given that name because of the bad guys operating in that
area. Not to mention, it was a straight path to Da Nang from the Ho Chi Minh trail as well as a great food
source for the NVA army. It was also occupied by a lot of Viet Cong and many
civilian sympathizers. So, when a battalion from the 5th Marines was
in the Arizona, they had they hands full. And, we were always in the Arizona.
So, what’s this memory which the title to this post
suggests?
I already told you about the superstition concerning
the third and ninth month; I never really gave it a lot of thought since I had
other things to be concerned with. It was September 19th, 1969 and
we were in the Arizona. We had been out there about two weeks and had already been hit by NVA
forces with everything they had. Mortar rounds, RPG rockets, small arms and
machine gun fire. I think it was the first week out there, I was part of a squad
sized ambush set in along a river bank which had a trail used by the VC and
NVA. We weren’t set in an hour yet when they hit the company lines. We were
secure and invisible until a VC soldier tried to use that trail as an escape route
and the man set in where the trail entered along the river shot him and
now, we were exposed.
The company, Bravo 1/5, was set up on what we called
the Hot Dog because it was a narrow piece of high ground which stretched on and
on. We had set up on the Hot Dog in various locations during my time there. But
this night, it had been only the lines taking firing, but now our ambush was getting
hit. We were in a good position because we were below ground level and
everything was flying over us. Except for someone creeping up and seeing if
there were more VC coming our way, we weren’t in any danger of getting hit. We
had set off the claymores we set out and I’m sure that kept these guys away and
soon they were in full retreat mode.
As a company, we were getting this about every other
night. Now, back to September 19th, 1969. The word was out that were
going to get hit again and we were on a 50% watch. The night before, a man who
had been in country for months, handed me a starlight scope (a night scope
which operated from the light of the moon and stars unless there was no moon or
star light.) He told me where to look and I could see a couple of VC out there
jumping up and down and trying to get someone to shoot at them. That way, they
could tell where the position was and make it easier for them to know where to
hit.
So, I and a Marine by the name of Paul Kuntz were in
the hole together. His name was pronounced Koontz but I’m sure you can imagine
how those guys said it. He received a lot of harassment because of his name and
also because he was a Christian and would boldly tell everyone that he and his
fiancé were virgins and would wait until they were married to have sex. As I
said, I was not a Christian but I never jumped in on the harassment aimed at
him.
But he did have some hang ups and wasn’t the most
aggressive Marine. So, we were standing the first watch and Kuntz kept nodding
off and I would jab him in the ribs with my elbow to wake him up. He would
grunt and I would tell him to stay awake so he wouldn’t get killed. There was
about six inches of water in the bottom of that fox hole and I kept my feet
propped up on the front edge of it. I don’t remember exactly how long we were
on watch when we got hit. And just as I was jabbing Kuntz in the ribs and at
that exact moment, they unleashed everything they had at us. My first thought
was to wake the guys sleeping in the poncho hooch about thirty feet behind the
hole. You might be wondering why I would have to wake them if we were getting
hit with all that stuff. Every night and all night, there was what we called
H&I (harassment and interdiction) rounds being fired by the mortar section.
Not only that but artillery fire was being fired throughout the night also.
Every twenty minutes, the mortar section would fire a couple of rounds around
the outside of the lines. So, when we got hit, that wouldn’t wake most guys. I
jumped up telling Kuntz what I was doing and took off running back to where
these guys were asleep. You don’t really stop and think about what is going on
around you, you just react. At least that’s what I did. I have thought about
that many times over the years and considered how dangerous that was and if I
would ever do it again. And Kuntz was down in the hole in six inches of water.
I got to where they were sleeping and started yelling
at them to get up and we were getting hit. The three of them were up and gone
just as I felt a piece of shrapnel hit me in my right face cheek. I got down
and crawled between the bush line and the poncho hooch. I could hear the rounds
flying over me and thought that I needed to get back to the hole but then
realized there were already four guys there and not enough room for five. I was
stuck; I was pinned down with nowhere to go. It was then I also realized I
wasn’t even safe where I was at because the bushes weren’t going to stop any
rounds. I was laughing at myself because I thought I was safe and really
wasn’t.
Finally, it all stopped; it was then I realized that
grenade was supposed to be for the gun position which was steadily firing away
but it fell short. The A gunner at the gun position had been hit with shrapnel
from the same grenade. He was hit in the neck and appeared to be in pain. I
felt nothing. It was just a thud and minor heat but nothing painful. It’s what
we called a cheap heart (purple heart).
Everyone was good and I was the only one hit at our
position. The Lieutenant did a line check once everything settled down. When he
got to our position, he asked, “Anyone hit here? Is everyone alright? I told
him I was hit with grenade shrapnel and he didn’t believe me. One of the guys
said, “Yes he was hit while getting us up and down to the hole.” I told him
again I was hit and he hesitantly told the corpsman to check me out. We went
into the poncho hooch and they covered both ends so Doc could use his flashlight.
He saw the wound and went out and told the Lieutenant that I was definitely hit
in the cheek.
I asked the Lieutenant if I was going to be medivacked
out and he just laughed and told me my squad was down to seven guys and he
couldn’t allow me to go anywhere. I accepted that but also thought about a
slacker who the week before while we were getting hit used a P-38 can opener to
slice the back of his neck and said it happened during the attack. He spent a
week on a hospital ship. I was told to go see the battalion corpsman in the
morning and get it taken care of. Battalion was sitting with us at our position.
So, no trip to 1st Med in Da Nang or a hospital ship. I wasn’t that
upset over it since I knew there were worse cases than me who really needed to
be in one of those places.
It also occurred to me that I was in my third month in
country. Add me to that stat was my thought and when my ninth month rolled
around, I was very careful but not so much that I was distracted by it. It was
actually something of an opposite. In my ninth month, I spent a week in Sydney Australia.
But not only did I not get a trip out of the bush but the Marines never gave me
my Purple Heart. I had to buy my own medal and ribbon. I knew the Marines were
stingy on awards but that was bad. There was a guy who slept above me at Parris
Island boot camp who was in the same company I was and he assaulted a machine
gun position and took it out and was wounded in the process. He was put in for
a Silver Star but it was denied. And I saw Army guys with Bronze Stars given to
them just for rotating back to the states, or the world as we called it. (I
wasn’t complaining for not being awarded for that night. It never entered my
mind. My award was coming home in one piece.)
Again, would I jump up in enemy fire and do that
again? I don’t know. We all did things we would never imagine doing. My only
goal was to get back home in one piece and I thank my God He made that happen.
I didn’t know Him back then but He knew me and He knew He was going to use me.
It was about fifteen years after I returned from
Vietnam that I was saved and began that personal relationship with Him. When He
saved me from a life of sin, misery and alcohol, He also took the Vietnam
monkey off of my back. It’s the only real cure for PTSD. If you don’t know
Jesus, call on Him today. He is ready to welcome you in and delivery you from
your misery and life of sin.
Note: What I have described in this memory
is true and I have not stretched the truth at all. It all happened just as I
have said and it was written strictly as a memory and not to bring attention to
myself. It’s just the way life was in Vietnam for a Marine grunt. Many acts of
selflessness were committed by others who served in Vietnam. This account is
minute in comparison to some of those. This account and more can be found in my
book, Memories of Vietnam. It can be found on Amazon.





