Nam Vet
Writings
These
words are written from Brothers of all services. Army, Navy, Airforce, and Marines. I
thank each of you for sharing in the healing of our own!
Semper
FI
Casey
Piatt
APVNV Beanie
Mud and Monsoon Showers
Copyright©1997 By Patrick Camunes
Drying, caking, sucking, oozing
Home to blood sucking creatures.
Absorber of our blood
And useless as cover.
Filling never ending rice paddies
And perfect for ambush.
Helping Death accomplish it's task
By slowing down your retreat or drowning in it's cover.
Sucked up to your knees in it
Boot eyelet's oozing of it.
Bloused fatigues filled to the bream
And drying to sandpaper hardness.
Sandbags?.... Mudbags?
Flowing freely through your bunker.
Sucking any sign of lubrication
From our equipment and weapons.
Dirty, smelly, filled with excretement
Finding any open wound.
In your mouth, up your nose
Nothing is left private.
Mud, mud, everywhere
When will it end?
This land of never-ending Mud....
.................................
Then the MONSOONS BEGIN!
APVNV Pat(Beanie)Camunes
D/4/31 196th Lt Inf Bde
TayNinh 12/66-4/67 TamKy 4/67-12/67
PRECIOUS PAPER
Of all the silly things to bother me
Is the wasting of shit paper.
The wadding and wrapping around hands
Is nothing but a waste to me.
As grunts, we carried it on our steel pots
And used it sparingly, even though there was no shortage.
Every time we opened our C-Rations
There it was, our precious little pack of shit paper.
Many times there was no need of shit paper
But only a river crossing to cleanse our soiled pants.
And being a grunt in Vietnam
There was no shortage of soiled pants..........and shit paper.
Now people talk about privacy
But never had to take a dump with your buddy standing guard.
When the fear of dying for your country
Was overcome by the fear of dying with your pants down.
The times change
And the wars change
But the precious little pack of shit paper
Will never change.
Copyright©,1997
APVNV Pat(Beanie)Camunes
PAYBACK:
"He who seeks revenge should remember to dig two graves."
PAYBACK
By Patrick Camunes
Copyright © 1998
April 12, 1967, Chu Lai, Republic of South
Vietnam:
I arrived with advanced forces of the Army's Delta company, 4th of the
31st, 196th Lt. Inf. Bde.
We're here, supposedly, to support the Marine Corps in "I" Corps. Our
combat unit arrived by
C1-30's and we're forced to spend the night on the airfield. The ferry
that is supposed to take us
across to the peninsula we are assigned to, does not move by night but
only in the semi safety of
daylight.
We settle in, enjoying the pavement below us, because as grunts, it only
brings us closer to the
"world". The false feeling of safety in this different environment also
envelopes us. We settle in
between steel barricades, set up to protect aircraft on the airfield,
and we feel safe....for the
moment.
The distant thuds and thumps of incoming mortars do not immediately
concern us since they are
a familiar sound of somebody else's war, until they seem to get closer.
My experienced ear, as
an 81mm mortar gunner can tell, is that the rounds are "walking" towards
us and there's a silent
respect for this new NVA enemy's effectiveness. There is not an
immediate concern until the
incoming 82 mm rounds begin their "walk" towards OUR area, and then it
is too late.
The steel revetments that were put up to protect aircraft, and we
considered our protection, are
now our downfall. Deadly shrapnel from the mortar rounds is bouncing and
ricocheting off the
smooth hard walls. I'm blinded by brilliant and deadly explosions, and
my ears are ringing from
the tremendous concussions within these walls, like a giant shaking your
entire body while
slapping both ears with cupped hands. But is not enough to cover the
sound of sizzling hot
jagged-metal bouncing off steel walls--and surprised screams as steel
slices soft and vulnerable
flesh.
Suddenly, there's a muted explosion ... almost distant, as my hearing is
nearly gone, and I feel
the tunnel vision, graying out as if at high altitude, and wonder at the
faint burning sensation I feel,
and try to make sense of why I am not still buckled in the seat of the
aircraft. Why is my body
flying through the air? As if in slow motion I cartwheel as if discarded
by the giant, bored with a
toy. My mind struggles to understand, and screams, "This CAN'T be
happening to ME.......I
can't die!" Fate calls the shots and I land on a body of a medic trying
to crawl beneath the
flightline asphalt. He reacts immediately to a cry of, "I'm hit!, I'm
hit!" and I wonder who's hit. . .
. .and he pulls out a flashlight from his medic's bag. In the fading
yellow light of half-dead
batteries I see blood shooting from a severed artery . . . "Oh. . .so he
must be the one hit. . .and
I follow the squirting blood to it's source and wonder, . . . how did my
arm do that? And I'm
strangely fascinated, amused, by it all until the medic rapidly applies
a bandage and yells, "Put
pressure on it, NOW, and don't let go!" Let go. . .? of pressure. . .? I
don't underst. . . . . . . . .
He rips off what's left of my tattered and bloody shirt and I look at it
laying discarded, and
puzzled I try to point with my arm that won't obey. . Hey. . .my shirt.
. . it's smoldernnng. . .it's
smlokin. . .it's. . .it's. . . burnin'. The medic is not amused and
ignores my astute logic. It is night
but there are lights shining where aircraft mechanics were working, and
I can see my still
smoldering shirt beside me, and wonder, That's my shirt. . .so that's
why my back stings so. .
.and if I could just use it as a pillow I could . . .close my eyes. .
.and. . .sleep. The medic tending
my wounds and burns on my back, yells at me to hold still and keep
pressure on that artery.
Then another mortar round lands nearby and the medic groans in anguish,
and accepts the
offerings of his enemy's attempt to do away with us all. He slumps
against me and our blood
mingles. . .the warmth tempts my mind to leave this place of so much
destruction. For a brief
moment, my mind wanders and I'm somewhere else. In this world that my
imagination has
brought me to, I see my loved ones around me but just as fast, I'm
brought back to reality by the
sounds of the madness around me.
Blood is everywhere and I can hear the muffled sounds of the wounded and
dying, as if from the
bottom of a well yet all around me. We will forever be considered
brothers after this baptism of
fire and blood. Dream-like, I'm moving again and I find myself in a jeep
that is picking up the
scattered wounded and broken bodies lying everywhere, the medic is
helping me. . .but that's
not right, he's still not moving. . . and we pile on top of each other
to get to an aid station. My
mind is playing games with me for lack of blood and I think how ironic
it would be for me to die
of this lack of blood, when it is flowing so freely all around me.
A field of clean white uniforms with helping hands are upon us, not
caring that we are soiling their
uniforms with our blood and I allow my mind to go into that soothing
sleep that it is craving. I
suddenly awake to the smell of ammonia and look up at beautiful faces of
round eyed women.
These must be my angels that have come to get me, and in soothing and
heavenly voices they tell
me that I'm being moved to the main hospital because of my need for
immediate surgery. "Can I
let go of the bandage now?" I try to say, but my mouth seems filled with
cotton.
I'm loaded onto the back of a deuce and a half with two Air Force men
that only moments
earlier had taken their last breath of life. Death's touch has finally
caught up to me. My hearing is
sort of returning, yet it's quiet again, and I think that all the
confusion and mayhem is behind me. .
.behind us, as we drive down a bumpy road. I try to hold on to one of
these men with my one
good arm and I wonder if a mistake hadn't been made because he's still
so warm, and in the
darkness, seemingly full of life. I look upon and I'm drawn to the
peacefulness of the men beside
me. My mind is again pulled towards that sleep that it craves and as
though through a mist I join
them in their serenity. I look at them in awe. . .That's not so bad. .
.I can do that. . .maybe I
already have. . .maybe I am like them.
Faintly, I see the two men that had been beside me, suddenly walking and
embracing people that
I do not recognize. I somehow know that I have traveled to a different
world, the other side, and
sense a peacefulness . . . and long for that blissful feeling of welcome
and tranquillity. Off in the
hazy distance I see wavering figures with outstretched arms, and I move
towards them
anticipating their welcoming and warm embrace.
Startled, my journey is interrupted by the jolting of the truck and
voices screaming orders of
concern . . . "GET HIM OUT . . . GET HIM OUT, HE'S STILL ALIVE!" I
watch, and
wonder which one of us they're talking about. Tell me which one and I
will try to help lift. . .him.
. .out. The tailgate slams down and our mingled blood flows freely over
the edge, cascading as if
a miniature waterfall. The image is forever imprinted in my mind. I find
it strange that these two
men with me are black and yet our blood blends and flows so well
together, covering and
imprinting a lasting signature on the uniforms of all of those involved.
Screaming orders...the
warmth and stickiness of blood recently in living
veins...confusion...movement...pain...God! the
pain! "PLEASE, GOD, take the pain away!" My pleas are answered and I'm
again searching in
that misty painless-twilight searching for those outstretched and
beckoning arms of comfort. If I
could. . .just rest a moment. . .in her arms. . . .
"GET THE IV IN, QUICK.... MOVE IT!" ......Where are these words coming
from? "WE
NEED PLASMA...NOW!" These words, these interruptions won't allow me to
get to where
I'm going...As in a distance, I hear, "HE'S COMING AROUND!........HE'S
COMING
AROUND!" The life force of my body is again flowing through my veins.
The so peaceful and gentle world that my mind had suddenly traveled to
begins to fade away,
replaced by awareness of pain and torn bodies. I hesitantly move
backwards from the
welcoming arms that awaited me. And as I pass the two Airmen, no words
are spoken, but their
expressions are of contentment and I feel there is no disappointment
that I did not join them.
And I have an overwhelming feeling that we will meet again. The life
force is again flowing
through my veins and I hesitantly and gradually move back to what is
considered the "real
world".
Death had looked upon me and I had faced it, maybe with anticipation,
but because of the love
of the living I did not embrace it. Such serenity is now vanquished and
overcome by the craving
madness of revenge. The thought of dying was gone, replaced by a hunger
for bloodletting of the
enemy--payback was my only goal.
Recuperating, returning to my unit and instilling that payback-hatred
was my main concern, and it
was accomplished. A comfort so satisfying--the urge within me to seek my
enemy's blood and
claim his life. The fear or anticipation of dying was replaced by a
blinding obsession for revenge,
and the madness whirls on until the day they came for me and said that I
must return to the
"World." Then upon returning, there is no one to take away the hatred.
Life goes on and
eventually the hate and urge toward ruthless death gradually fades and
is replaced by memories
of the madness we endured or were swept away by. The guilt that so many
of us feel is not only
for our fellow combatants, but ironically for that of our former
enemies.
May God bless my two Brothers that I met briefly on April 12, 1967,
Clyde Reed Jr. and Frank
Anthony Madison. I never had the pleasure to know them personally but I
shall always
remember that walk toward peace we made together. And that parting as
you both were in
God's good hands. The day that I eventually reunite again with you, I
pray that you know I did
not abandon you, and on that day the payback will be the Welcome of your
Open Arms.
Rest in Peace, my two Brothers......until we meet again.
Last name: REED
First name: CLYDE JR
Home of Record (official): CINCINNATI
State (official): OH
Date of Birth: Monday, August 18, 1947
Sex: Male
Race: Negro
Marital Status: Single
Branch: Air Force
Rank: A2C
Serial Number: 15735441
Component: Regular
Pay grade: E3
MOS (Military Occupational Specialty code): Unknown/Not reported
Start of Tour: Wednesday, March 29, 1967
Date of Casualty: Wednesday, April 12, 1967
Age at time of loss: 19
Casualty type: (A1) Hostile, died
Reason: Artillery, rocket, mortar (Ground casualty)
Country: South VietNam
Province: Quang Tin
The Wall: Panel 18E - Row 018
Last name: MADISON
First name: FRANK ANTHONY
Home of Record (official): NEW YORK
State (official): NY
Date of Birth: Friday, November 16, 1945
Sex: Male
Race: Negro
Marital Status: Married
Branch: Air Force
Rank: A1C
Serial Number: 12704783
Component: Regular
Pay grade: E4
MOS (Military Occupational Specialty code): Unknown/Not reported
Start of Tour: Monday, March 6, 1967
Date of Casualty: Wednesday, April 12, 1967
Age at time of loss: 21
Casualty type: (A1) Hostile, died
Reason: Artillery, rocket, mortar (Ground casualty)
Country: South VietNam
Province: Quang Tin
The Wall: Panel 18E - Row 019
APVNV.. A PROUD VIETNAM VETERAN
Pat(Beanie)Camunes
D/4/31 196th Lt. If Bde
TayNinh 12/66-4/67 TamKy 4/67-12/67
And most important of
all...to Vets and non Vets alike. This is something to consider and know. Only by
knowing..will the Non-vet ever understand us. This is why all vets are tied together
...this is something we all know and understand.
APVNV Beanie
The Circle of Life and Death
I have run from Death
But yet I have faced Death face to face.
I have avoided Death
And yet helped Death to accomplish it's goals.
I have come close to meeting Death
But yet fought his evil intentions.
I have worked with Death
And yet still avoided him.
Death is part of life
And life is not without Death.
To avoid Death now
Is to avoid Life.
Life goes on
As Death must go on.
We now live in life
As we will later live in Death.
APVNV Pat(Beanie)Camunes
D/4/31 196th Lt Inf Bde
TayNinh 12/'66-04/'67 TamKy 04/'67-12/'67
Thanks Pat Camunes
(Beanie) you have shared more with your words than most of us can put into words. We know
them in our hearts. It took you to express them as only you could for all of us.
Graphics on this page
will be coming soon. Please stay tuned.
