A Memory from Vietnam

 --Bill Petite

When I got to Vietnam and assigned to my rifle company in the 1^st Battalion, 5^th 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 5^th 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 5^th 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 19^th, 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 19^th, 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 1^st 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.